Random Shoes
by faultylogic
Summary: Sets of random one shots, meant to be moments in the lives of Quinn and Santana. Ranging from light fluff to angst to adult content. Therefore rated M for the whole.
1. Power Struggles

**A/N - Hi! This is my first attempt at actually writing something so I'm quite nervous about that. In this instance there will be a series of one shots that don't relate to one another and don't follow on any time line. I'm just going to write about some moments that occur to me, so if anyone has any guidance/suggestions or anything I'd love to hear about those. **

**So yeah, hope they're not awful. I'm marking them up with a high rating due to adults themes because some will be fluff no doubt but some will not.**

**I own nothing, just having fun.**

**X - X - X**

It shouldn't have worked. It did work.

It should have been a sex thing. It wasn't just a sex thing.

It shouldn't have lasted more than a month, tops. It was currently at a year and a half.

It hadn't fallen apart. There was no lying or cheating. There was emotional talk stuff. There were considerations of future plans, like – _way_ in the future. She was talking about weddings and kids and shit.

She should have been terrified. She wasn't terrified.

She was happy. Even when they had moved in together three months ago (it would have been six months ago but it had taken three months to find a place they both adored), she hadn't freaked out. Well maybe once, but it was a minor freak out that had been fixed easily followed up by steamy hot shower sex. Who could begrudge _that_?

''What're you thinking about?''

''Fucking.''

There was a disbelieving scoff from behind her. The body that had pressed into her back and wrapped their arms around her squeezed her gently. Her body shivered at the hot breath ghosting her neck as a chin rested on her shoulder and that beautiful face nuzzled her lovingly.

See, before this she mostly hated that shit. With the rare exception she really just wanted to fuck and run. It was fun. The thrill of the chase, the coaxing a girl (especially straight girls) and fucking them senseless had been nothing but addictive.

Not that she thought relationships sucked or anything, but she just hadn't been a grown up yet. She had just wanted to live it up for a while. Plus the effort that went into these things? God, she just couldn't deal with that shit, all the remembering little details and birthday's and anniversaries and what they liked to do…so fucking boring and bothersome.

Now it was safe to say that she knew everything about the woman pressing into her from behind, effectively pinning her to the kitchen counter. Right from the colour of her eyes when she was about to cum, where exactly to kiss her body to wind her up enough to simply cum from sucking her breasts, to her love of reading, the fact she was claustrophobic and hated the smell of bananas to her whimsical believe in narwhals and unicorns.

''No, you weren't.''

That sultry, husky voice breathed out knowingly as that oh so talented mouth placed hot kisses on her neck and shoulder. Those skilful hands swept across her body, one inching up to cup her right breast and the other sinking beneath her panties to scratch lightly through the top of her curls.

Her body jerked and her breath hitched and before a second could even float by she was so very wet with a hard, pulsating throb ebbing outward through her from her core.

''Well if I wasn't before, which by the way let's take a moment to marvel at _that_, I certainly am now.''

Her girlfriend, her fucking awesome, beautiful, magnificent, insatiable, sexy, whore like, saint like, innocent, depraved girlfriend, jolted her in admonishment because she wanted a real answer. Her tongue run along her neck followed by a soft bite, followed by another lick and a suckling. She nearly lost her fucking mind and blew right on the spot. But the attention was just not enough to do that to her, it was perfectly calculated.

''Tell me and I'll put you out of your misery.''

Her husky, hot whisper promised. She flopped her head back to rest against her and those hands continued their assault. Fingers slipped into her slick wetness and slipped back out. Nails traced the underside of her breasts after invading up her vest – no touch was able to give her the kind of friction or pressure or relief that her body now demanded.

Her own arm reached up to tangle fingers in silky hair.

''I was thinking about how much I love you.''

Her voice had a cracked edge to it as her breasts were fondled and her hips tried to lean into those fingers that were dancing – fucking dancing – in her folds, avoiding her clit for now but working her up expertly. No one had ever played her body like this – ever. Not even close, actually. And that said something with the amount of girls that she had gone through and the amount of seriously amazing sex she'd had. Not as amazing as what happened between them though.

There was a gratified murmur in the back of that husky throat.

''And how much do you love me?''

''_So_ fucking much.''

It was a desperate mule and it was so very true. Those teeth bit into her again, tongue poking out to swirl against her skin.

''Would you bleed for me?''

''Yes.''

''Would you kill for me?''

''Yes.''

''Lie?''

''Yes.''

''Submit to me?''

''Yes.''

''Would you die for me?''

''Fuck yes.''

The fingers ran over her clit and she jolted and moaned loudly, her body bucking wildly as her reward was given. She let herself go, gave her body up for her to do with it what she pleased. Her long fingers slipped inside of her causing her to stretch her walls in such a delicious way it was dizzying.

They eased in and out inside of her, curling and crossing and scissoring as her palm rubbed against her clit and fuck she was already seeing stars behind her eyes. Her body had nowhere to go – trapped between her hand and her body and held by strong arms. She was everywhere.

''Will you be true to me?''

The voice of pure heat and sex asked.

''Yes.''

''And protect me.''

''Yes.''

''And want me.''

''Yes. Oh god – yes.''

''And love me, will you love me forever?''

''Yes.''

''Say it.''

She was burning up and so very, very close and standing in their kitchen like this – being surrounded by her with that voice and those hands and that smell and the gentle solidness of her body – it was all so erotic and sexy and fuck, she was so ready to combust.

''I will love you forever.''

''Then I only have two questions left.''

Her mouth was dry, there were fireworks in her mind and her body was a prisoner to the pleasure surging through it. Pleasure that was almost painful and probably should be considered illegal because it was more mind blowing than the best fucking drug out there. But she nodded sloppily, groaning and gripping onto her for dear life.

''Anything.''

Seriously, anything. If she asked her to jump out of the fucking window right now she would. If she asked her to go rob a bank she would. If she told her to turn herself inside out so she could take her soul she fucking would.

''Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?''

The words caused a powerful surge inside of her – the likes of which she had never felt before. It was forceful and primal and it felt like raw molten lava.

''Yes! Oh my god, yes…yes.''

Those lips smirked against her neck, teeth still slightly sunken into her skin. She was probably going to have some sort of mark there but she really didn't care.

''Then cum for me.''

And she did. Holy fuck she did and it was hard and phenomenal and it ripped through every single inch of her. It rolled and rolled and she continued to pulse and fuck it happened again, and then again and god she felt like dying in a happy, overwhelmed and sated way – because her bones turned limp and she had to rely on those arms and that body to keep her from falling.

Her mind was sucked into a state of oblivious bliss. It took long, long moments to come down from that – to reconnect with the physical world. The first thing she felt was the pulsing. Her body pulsed and hummed and was hot and sticky. Her breathing echoed in her ears and the heat of her own skin but especially the heat of the body pressed against her made her feel like she was burning. But she didn't care.

Those fingers were still inside of her, palm still pressed against her, hand still up her vest, mouth still attached to her neck, breath still ghosting across her skin, body still against her own. They were still stood in the kitchen of their converted loft on a Sunday morning and the scent of coffee was still lingering in the air now mixing with the scent of sex. The radio was still crooning in the background and the air was still generally quiet and the sun outside had brightened the magnificent fucking view they had and warmed the air.

Life was still going on. Birds still chirped. The ocean waves still ebbed and flowed. They were still breathing.

''You lied. There were three questions.''

She murmured breathlessly. Her neck began to receive soft kisses as the hand up her vest moved slightly to sprawl across her abdomen.

''Two of them meant the same thing, doesn't count.''

''Does so.''

''Fine, then the last one was an order. I didn't ask. I told.''

There was a pause for one thoughtful beat, because her mind was not working as well as it normally did right now.

''Damnit.''

She had to concede because it was true. A smile adorned those beautiful lips and she murmured a little as those fingers slipped out of her slowly, trying not to jar her too much, and moved up to join the other across her abdomen.

That's how they stood, in that embrace, for long comfortable minutes.

''It shouldn't work…''

''But it does.''

They were both agreed on that. There was a buzz in her stomach now that wasn't entirely caused by the orgasm that she could still feel in her every fibre. It was that future again. It was the idea of spending the rest of her life with this woman. It was the thought of raising babies together and spending whole nights devoted to each other's bodies. It was the knowing that fights would come and go and laughter would be shared. It was exciting. And wonderful. And fucking sappy as shit but she didn't care anymore.

''That was…an inventive way to propose to somebody.''

''My romanticism is second to none.''

''Oh yeah, sure – you try telling this story to our parents and enquiring minds.''

''I shall. I'm not ashamed.''

''You should be, most girls get a nice dinner or something.''

''You got multiple orgasms.''

''I like that better.''

''I know you do.''

Again, there were a few moments of silence. Comfortable, giddy, loving, sweet silence as the air sucked in their feelings and charged itself.

''Santana.''

''Quinn.''

''We're getting married.''

Santana turned in her arms – which was a feat in itself because her body was still floppy and weak from all that glorious exertion – and she looped her own arms around the blonde's neck. Those hazel green eyes looked down at her intently, burning into her like always.

''We're getting married.''

She confirmed confidently. There would be a whole host of people that would literally find it hard to believe that she of all people was getting married, but those people probably just hadn't met this goddess in front of her. As soon as they did they would understand.

Sometimes to tame the wildest person you had to employ the power of an equally wild person. But it wasn't a taming – it was a sharing, they were wild as ever it's just they were wild together instead. Wildly devoted and wildly in love and wildly insatiable for each other.

Their mouths met in a languid, sloppy kiss that held no rush but was connected and deep. Tongues slid against one another in heated exploration. Santana's fingertips kneaded and lightly scratched the nape of Quinn's neck, all the while pulling her as flush against her as she could. The blonde hands scraped along the small of her back, dancing across the skin exposed.

They didn't have a conventional relationship, not really. But in a way she guessed they sort of did. They were loving and faithful and honest. Comfortable together and knowing of one another. To most they were a mismatched couple – too similar in their confidence and assertiveness – maybe all around too similar.

It was just supposed to have been some hot sex with no expectation. They were supposed to clash and battle over power and dominance. Instead it had lead to this, and it was epic.

''I love you, Mrs Lopez.''

Santana whispered against those delicious lips.

''I love you too, Mrs Fabray.''

Tongues roamed again, hot and slow and promising. Until Santana frowned her classic 'what the fuck' frown and pulled her head back.

''Wait, what the holy eff? It's Lopez…''

''Fabray.''

''In your wildest dreams, Barbie doll. Go Lopez or go home.''

''Santana – shut up and fuck me.''

The Latina forgot about the power struggle between their names and gladly took Quinn's mouth and she propelled her backward to shove her up against the fridge. Her hands eagerly roaming the expanse of that goddess like body, fingers hooking into her underwear to pull them down.

''It's Fabray.''

Quinn muttered quietly but confidently against her lips. Santana scowled again, shoving Quinn into the fridge pointedly again, even though she didn't retract her mouth.

''I fucking heard that, bitch.''

The only answer was a devilish smirk imprinted on Quinn's lips.


	2. Credibility

**A/N - Thanks to those that took an interest that was cool. Another little installment and also wanted to say that because I have no set plan I'm totally open to suggestions and prompts. Thanks :)**

**Xxx**

''What the hell is this?''

To say that Santana was insanely furious right now was the biggest understatement of life. In fact, she didn't know how she was managing to think clearly and _not_ murder anyone that came within two feet of her. She felt like ripping somebody's throat out.

She threw her script down onto the large, messy table that the writers sat around to think up their twists, turns and plots. Usually she was fine with them. She liked the direction of the show, its characters, _her_ character and she just loved the material she got to come in and work with everyday.

But not today and not this.

''Santana…''

William Shuester, the creator and mastermind of the show, began with a placating and therefore patronising tone, only to be cut off by the irate Latina.

''No. Don't '_Santana_' me – what the hell _is_ that?''

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, the other writers looking to him or between themselves hoping that they wouldn't get caught in the cross fire. Some of them had tried to warn him that this would be her reaction, and some had been eager to throw this little twist into the mix for her character.

They had a prime time show on their hands and Santana was definitely one of their biggest stars. She worked hard and she had lots of ideas but sometimes she could be a little temperamental. Not one of those actresses that demanded and threw hissy fits or anything, but she definitely had a passionate vein.

''Is this because I'm a lesbian? Is that what this is?''

She demanded, pointing at the offending script that was now looking a little worse for wear considering she had thrown it across the room several times in the last hour or so.

''We thought it'd be an interesting avenue to explore.''

Will said unconvincingly, earning himself a withering glare.

''You mean _you_. _You_ thought this would be an 'interesting avenue to explore'. Are you serious with this? Is this because of me? What, you think because I like girls you can just get me to make out with whoever the hell you want on the show for a ratings hike? No way!''

She accused, pointing a finger directly at him before flailing off as she continued to yell loudly. What the hell made them think she would be okay with this? It was insulting and infuriating and demeaning. She had spent two years working her ass off for these people and they try to use her like this now?

This business wasn't exactly fair but she at least thought that she had the respect of these people and the right to be treated with professionalism and equality. It was hard enough to not play up to Latina stereotypes and be different from the typical Hollywood looking starlet, let alone be the inspiration to go and turn her sexuality into some flippant ratings booster for the show.

Especially when it was off of the back of true confirmation of her being gay. The cast knew and all and she had managed to date under the radar before she got this gig but because it had blown up in epic proportions it was a lot harder to do anything without being noticed. There had been rumours she never really denied but her relationship with her girlfriend had gotten to the point where she didn't want to deny anything. So she hadn't. And now everyone knew for sure.

''Santana, please calm down. Look, you have to deal with the fact that we're writing for a wide audience here and we're supposed to reflect what happens in real life. You should be happy that we want to include this.''

She scoffed loudly.

''Well I'm not! I should be _happy_ that you what? Want to include a lesbian make out scene and then drop it as soon as that's done? That's insulting. _She_ isn't the lesbian, _I_ am – and you can't just use me like that. She's never shown any signs of being interested in girls, so obviously it _isn't_ an avenue to explore. If it was a serious storyline I might get behind that but this is just…it's disgusting and advantageous and you think that you can just use my life for your own purposes? If you want a lesbian kiss then fine, do it – just don't us me. I don't want anything to do with it.''

Santana declared after dressing them down and folded her arms across her chest, panting slightly at the exertion of being so worked up. Seriously, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this. Sure her temper could flare sometimes but not ever to this degree, but she felt so fucking angry.

Actually she felt violated. It was a violation.

''Are you saying you won't do it?''

Will demanded with a coldness to his voice, showing that he clearly wasn't getting Santana's point one little bit. She knew in her head that maybe if she was calmer then it could possibly go in a lot better but calm was about a thousand miles behind her. Calm was a dot in the distance.

Santana _really_ wouldn't have a problem playing a gay character, she really wouldn't. Because _that_ would just be hypocritical. But to just do this with no regard to what it means was not something she could get behind. It was wrong. She wanted to be genuine with what she did and the character she played really was not this type of girl. She wouldn't do what they had written, it would be unbelievable it would make people angry and she didn't want any part of it.

It was gratuitous and they were only doing it because of her and they thought they could just flick on the switch then flick it off. They weren't thinking about how much things like this meant to a lot of people.

''Hell yes I'm saying I won't do it. This is my life, do you get that? Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously? You do this and you'll not only cost me _my_ credibility, but hers, yours and the entire shows. If you want to write about real experiences, then make somebody _really_ gay, not curious for an episode because it'll be hot.''

''It's just a kiss…''

Santana flailed again, spinning around because she was so frustrated. This day was just a very bad day. And no matter what happened now she was going to be disillusioned by this experience.

''It's not just a kiss! It means something to people. It means something to me. It matters. I won't do it, I absolutely refuse to do it.''

This time she didn't shout. Her words were strong and confident but she didn't actually yell like she had been. The resolve was written across her face because she was adamant that she would rather go with her integrity than pander to this.

''You know that they'll be consequences if you don't.''

The Latina shrugged at the threat.

''I don't care. You can fire me if you want. This is trash. You are all better writers than this, and we don't need this for our ratings. If you do this you'll be belittling everyone. She is straight. She just is she wouldn't do this. I would, so it just makes me feel like crap that you'd pull this on me just because I'm gay. I thought you had more respect for me than that.''

''Of course we respect you Santana, you're extremely talented and a valued member of this cast.''

Will tried to refute and compliment her – like that would actually make her roll over and do it.

''If it makes you feel better, we were going to reach out for Quinn to come in and play the part.''

He added hopefully. Santana stared at him with more intensity and wrath than he had ever seen anyone have. For a long tense moment she stared, completely frozen and in shock that this 'gesture' was supposed to make her feel any kind of better.

Then she laughed. An exasperated 'you just made things so much worse' kind of laugh as she dropped her head back for a moment.

''If you had any fucking respect for me you wouldn't be trying to use what has been one of the hardest experiences of my life to cause some titillating wet dreams. If you had any respect for me, you wouldn't sit there and tell me you were going to try to use _my_ _girlfriend_ to 'legitimise' this shit. Get someone else to be your episode long lesbian.''

She didn't wait for anymore to be said. She didn't wait to hear about these consequences. If they wanted to punish her they would punish her, at least she could hold her head up high and sleep at night. It might have been a small thing to a lot of people, in the grand scheme of things who really cared right?

But some people did. It wasn't small to her it was huge. It had taken most of her teenage years to accept the fact that she was a lesbian and be okay with that. She was proud of who she was, she worked hard and she was passionate and she at least could stand up and do the right thing. It really wasn't a big deal for the storyline to happen but not like this. Not because they saw an opportunity just because one of their cast was gay.

And definitely not because she had a girlfriend that also happened to be a well known actress.

Santana headed home, driving through traffic with a steely focus. Not being overly angry or overly upset because she was behind the wheel of a vehicle, so just being intently focused. Maybe scarily so.

She made it home in one piece and for a moment after pulling up besides Quinn's car – which by the way was always a cool thing to see in her driveway – she just sat. Part of her still not quite believing what had happened at the end of her working day. She got out of the car feeling somewhat calmer and composed, she had always liked driving so it had probably helped a lot.

''Q?''

''Kitchen.''

Of course. Santana smirked before propelling toward the kitchen. She lifted up an amused eyebrow when she heard a voice speaking in Spanish and then Quinn repeating it. When she turned into her kitchen she just leant a shoulder against the doorframe and watched the blonde stir something and try to get some pronunciations right, before she paused the CD she was listening to.

''Hey baby! Rachel sent me a cool CD to practice so I can be the slightest bit impressive when your parents…''

That was it. That was the length and breadth of Santana's composure. From absolutely nowhere she just broke out into tears. Or not tears – flat out sobs. She hated crying but here it was. She just felt so dejected and used.

Immediately, though she was shocked at the display, Quinn abandoned the cooking and went over to her girlfriend. She pulled her into her, hand wrapped around the back of her head and cradling her against her shoulder, the other on the small of her back.

It's not that Santana didn't get emotional, she did – a _lot_. But not like this.

''It's okay. Whatever it is let it out.''

So Santana did. Her hands clutched onto the material of Quinn's shirt and she cried into her shoulder for maybe a good 5 or 10 minutes. Quinn just held her and let her, because Quinn always seemed to know what she needed. It was crazy how that had happened because it required a deep understanding of her which sometimes people never got.

After a few minutes when the crying started to wan a little and Santana was mostly just sniffling, Quinn's hands cupped her face and pulled her back a little, and she placed a gentle kiss on her lips, thumbs tracing her dampened skin. Santana breathed out a heavy breath and hiccupped, nuzzling close for a moment and just breathing in the blonde's scent. It made her feel better.

''I love you.''

Santana sighed and nodded, clutching onto her girlfriend a little tighter. The words had never meant so much in her life.

''I know, I love you too.''

''Is it something you wanna talk about?''

It was an option to not talk – or to delay the talk until words could be found – as Quinn had learnt fairly quickly when to push and when to wait. Santana didn't do well with feeling pressured into talking and like everybody, sometimes the words just were there immediately.

But she had ended up talking to Quinn about a lot of things. Maybe that's what had made her fall in love with her so easily? It had sneaked up on her and beat her around the head, because Quinn had that disarming smile and that way about her that got right past your defences. She was a love ninja, is what she was is what she was. A damn love ninja.

In a couple of weeks she would be officially introduced to her parents that were coming for a visit. They knew about Quinn and there had been an occasional 'hello' spoken over the phone, but they were yet to meet. The last time they visited Quinn had been away on location so Santana had just talked a lot about her instead.

She knew her parents were totally going to love this blonde ball of randomness who was repeating stupid Spanish phrases off of a CD just so she could buff up and not seem ignorant of their language.

Because hell yeah that was the kind of thing her girlfriend did for her. And later she would rant to her about what happened at work earlier and she knew Quinn would get it and be on her side. That's all she needed right now.

''Maybe later? Right now I'll just help you finish dinner and listen to you repeating stupid CD Spanish!''

Quinn laughed and nodded and Santana kissed her again. This was exactly what she needed.


	3. Loss

**A/N - A bit angsty.**

xxx

Silence.

Screams.

Grinding metal.

Silence.

Screams.

Panic.

Distant voices.

Fear.

''Get the fuck off me! Get off!''

Quinn wakes up in a state of fight and flight. Screaming and shouting and fighting with her captors. She's getting nowhere fast but she continues to try.

They try to catch her flailing arms and pin her down and she shoves them off harshly, not really registering that they are less of captors and more of medical staff. But she's fucking terrified. She doesn't know these people. She didn't know where the hell she was. She didn't know what the fuck was happening.

''Please, Mrs. Lopez, calm down. You need to calm down.''

Quinn shoves someone off of her again, grunting and dragging in painful gaps of air as she fights with all her strength. It isn't a lot. She feels exhausted and weak and powerless but she's running on a surge of adrenaline and fear, but already she was shaking and her skin – a sickly pale – was perspiring with the exertion.

''Don't tell me to calm down! Where am I? Where's my wife?''

''Wait, just…''

Quinn literally _throws_ one of the women she's battling into a gathering of machines near the wall and she rips the bed covers off of herself in an effort to get out of this fucking bed, not realising for the moment that she can't move her legs.

''_Santana_!_ Santana_! Where is she?''

She screams and demands desperately. She's clutching the rail of the bed so hard that her knuckles are white, only letting go to fight more staff, dragging herself toward the edge of the bed in between the fight.

She _will_ move damnit. She _will_ find her wife. They could _not_ stop her. She could feel _no_ pain. No greater pain than the anxiety of not having the woman she loved anywhere near her.

''Quinn! Quinn stop it.''

Quinn blinks. That's familiar. That voice is familiar and commanding yet soft. And now there's hands on her shoulders holding her in place and she pants haphazardly, frowning as she pushes through the shock.

Her eyes look up to the face in front of her own properly, and finally it registers who it is.

''Rachel? Oh god – oh thank god.''

Quinn clutches onto her sister thankfully, scowling over the brunette's shoulder at the unfamiliar faces as they gather themselves up. Her sister was here damnit, she'd help her. The blonde clutched at the material of the brunette's sweater and tugged on it as she gazed passed her warily at a man with a needle.

No fucking way was he drugging her. No fucking way.

''Quinn…''

''I don't…Rachel what happened? Where's Santana? You have to help me.''

Rachel looked behind her shoulder at the man that Quinn was glaring at. It was taking all of her strength to remain composed for her distraught sister. She could feel her panic and her pain in her own chest and it was thick and agonising. She shook her head at the man. She could calm her down – Quinn would listen to her she had always been able to calm her down.

''Do you remember anything?''

Rachel asked softly as she turned back to Quinn. She had never seen her like this and it was the most heartbreaking thing Rachel had ever seen. It was even more heartbreaking knowing that there was more pain in store for her. All she wanted to do was wrap Quinn up in her arms and protect her from it.

She couldn't.

Quinn paused, sniffling, staring off into nowhere as she fought the fog in her mind.

Laughter.

''I…I…remember…she was laughing.''

Laughing that melodious and mischievous laugh. The laughter that always made her heart skip.

''Laughing?''

Quinn nodded, her hands still gripping onto Rachel. But flashes came back to her now. Echoing noises and images with blurred edges. Not Santana though. Santana was in perfect clarity – sat in the passenger seat of the car and laughing, doing funny little dances in her seat as she continued to laugh and tease. She was so beautiful.

And her hands would instinctually pat or stroke the recently protruding baby bump that had appeared lovingly.

''Yeah. We were in the car…Santana was teasing me about calling the baby something hideous. She uh…she said we were calling him Fabio.''

Quinn giggled. Oddly, surreally, she giggled like Santana had as she had insisted that Fabio was surely the name for their son.

''And she was laughing. Then…no. It's blurry…loud noises and screaming.''

Quinn eyes focused back onto Rachel fearfully.

''What happened to us?''

Rachel had never heard Quinn's voice like that. Not even when she had come home crying from school because somebody in their class had found out that she was adopted and had said some awful things about her. Not even when she would have nightmares sometimes and sneak into her room to get into bed to feel safe. Not when she had been the one to break it to Rachel that their Grandpa was in the hospital after suffering a major heart attack.

Rachel wanted to vomit.

''There was an accident, Quinn. A uh…a joy rider ran an intersection and hit two other cars. Your car.''

She shook. She shook even as she moved her hand to cup Quinn's face. She shook as she took in a strangled breath, because she was sure a fucking elephant had moved onto her chest. She shook because this wasn't supposed to happen. They were _so_ happy. They were good people, and some fucking delinquent teenager had just ripped their lives apart.

The man in the second car was dead. That left two fatal casualties. How did you tell your own sister that?

''Rachel please…where is my wife? Is she…is she dead?''

Quinn croaked out in utter dread. Rachel stroked her other hand through limp hair and shook her head.

''No. Santana is down the hall…''

Of course, Quinn began to move again.

''Then I want to see her…let me up.''

Rachel shook her head and held her shoulders again to get her to still, and when Quinn saw that her sister was crying she faltered.

''Quinn you have to listen to me.''

Rachel ducked her head for a moment and tried to compose herself again, but it was so hard when all she wanted to do was cry and scream and shout. But right now her sister needed her and she had to do this.

''There were complications, Quinn. You had to be cut out of the car…they said you were in and out but Santana was unconscious throughout. The impact broke a rib that punctured her lung and it collapsed, and with the time it took to uh…they don't know what's going to happen when she wakes up. At the moment they're keeping her in a coma, she's stable but…critical.''

The only thing Quinn could see when Rachel was talking was Santana's face in that car. The laughter and the unadulterated joy in her glowing eyes. They were supposed to be going to dinner with some friends. It had supposed to have been a happy night. They were just going for fucking dinner and now this?

She swallowed a razor blade lump in her throat as she stared at Rachel, just knowing that there was something else from the look in her eyes.

''What…what about the baby? Is our son okay?''

Rachel bit her lip and the surge of tears did hit her. She shook her head and Quinn felt like something had slammed into her. She couldn't breathe but there was hot bile surging through her and she was dizzy.

The next thing she knew she was sick. Just snapped to the side and threw up over the side of the bed. Her head didn't know what to do with this. Santana was critical and their son was what? Gone?

This baby boy that they had been waiting for and creating for – the nursery was finished last week and they had been talking about names. Real names not silly names like Santana was making up or pulling out to torture her with and make her laugh.

They had been loving him already and now what? Was he gone? Was he still inside of her, dead and still?

Rachel held her for long, long moments – crying as she cried. Quinn would shake her weakly every so often because god this was just too much. It was their whole damn life and she had been through enough pain already. When was it going to stop? She had finally let someone inside – finally found someone that knew her and she trusted not to abandon her like her birth parents who had just…left her as a toddler in some warehouse.

And after all the shit she took for that at school, after all the shit she took for being into girls and the either rocky relationships or the pain of good ones ending or the determination to just have flings or one night stands…she had found this amazing woman and they were happy.

So what, did the universe think she hadn't had any pain for a while and decided to slam some on her? It was so fucked up.

''I have to see her…please.''

Rachel looked up imploringly at the staff that were hovering nearby, looking woeful and sympathetic. They nodded and Rachel nodded too, kissing her sisters' head lovingly. She could be strong for her because that's what they did for each other. Fucking DNA be damned there was absolutely nothing that separated them in anyway. They were as close as siblings could be.

''Okay. Sweetie listen to me again okay? There was some damage to your back and there's some swelling…they said it's temporary, okay? But right now, you need to use a wheelchair, you're not gunna be able to walk for a little while.''

Quinn shook her head.

''I don't care. I'll drag myself down there if I have to…I don't care. She needs me there…she's all alone.''

Rachel kissed her sisters forehead but remained quiet and let the staff begin to assist a now passive but determined blonde. This was a nightmare. It was a call she had never ever wanted to receive and she had stood there opposite a Doctor explaining all of this to her just wishing that their parents were here. They were on their way but it was the middle of the night now and they would be in the air on a late flight.

Santana's parents were coming too. Rachel's own spouse, her husband Sam was sitting down the hall with Santana.

Eventually Quinn was in a wheelchair and she was connected to a drip and she ignored the discomfort and the pain from other injuries because they were getting closer and closer to the hospital room that Santana was in.

It was so hard to see her like this. Limp and lifeless in a bed that made her look so small. She was pale and bruised and it was hard to remember her laughing and then see her like this. Because in Quinn's head the Latina had been fine like – 5 minutes ago. She had just been fooling around and laughing, enjoying the atmosphere and looking forward to a nice dinner.

Now there was nothing. She was silent. And Quinn could barely see her properly in this stupid wheelchair and she felt so helpless. She didn't understand how this could happen. She didn't understand how she could go under and the next time she woke up this was their life.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Holding onto Santana's hand she did the only thing she could do – she made a promise that she intended to follow through.

''We will get through this, baby. We _will_. I love you so much.''

The promise was kept; because Santana woke up and they pulled each other through losing the little boy that they had decided to have a memorial for. He may not have been born but he had been there, and he had been loved anyway.

And their future children knew about their brother, Milo. Gone but never forgotten.


	4. Leave

Quinn collapsed forward onto her lover literally struggling for breath. Her chest was actually burning with the need for air. Her oxygen-starved body gasped in disarray – her skin flushed with sweaty exertion and flush – even her hair was a little damp.

Exhilaration surged through her body like tidal waves –not even tidal waves, more like personal tsunamis inside of her. She could feel slick heat at her pulsating core and the fingers that had brought on this sweeping and ripping orgasm were still firmly set inside of her. Talented, talented fingers.

Quinn chocked out a breathy laugh because she was too flummoxed to find strength in her voice and she thought how ironic it was that men thought women couldn't fuck. Maybe if they could trade places for a go around they could see that women were suitably equipped to fuck as good as they were – probably better. You didn't need dick to fuck and you certainly didn't need dick to hit _that_ spot.

''I so needed that.''

The blonde husked against the silky skin of her benefactors chest. Her face automatically turned into the warm nook of neck and shoulder and her lips pressed against the skin there. She could feel the pulse beneath thundering away – almost as violently as her own erratic and urgent pulse.

Santana Lopez was definitely equipped. Quinn doubted the Latina had met a girl in her life that she couldn't whole-heartedly satisfy. She was a sensational creature really. Her beauty was practically crippling and cause instant mouth watering reaction. She had a fabulously quick wit that stemmed out of her effortless intelligence that also made her even more undeniably sexy. Her body was literally to _die_ for and her voice was pure orgasmic bliss. And if all that _wasn't_ enough her personality was just so special and unique. Santana hid it from most or just showed sides of it because she was protective of it. Once you saw it though it was breathtaking.

All in all it made for an irresistible package.

''Little pent up there, Q?''

The blonde shivered at the sex in Santana's voice as well as the fact that the slightly smaller woman trailed her fingers up and down her spine with the pads of her fingertips.

''You have no fucking idea.''

Quinn sighed out a puff of air and managed to slide her boneless feeling body off the top of Santana and to the side of her instead. Her breath still hadn't quite managed to regulate itself and she propped her head up with one hand her front pressed against Santana's side and her own hand running trails along naked tan skin.

''I missed you.''

She whispered croakily but no less sincerely. Her eyes watched her own hand dance on skin for a moment but then she blinked and when her eyes reopened they were intently focused on Santana's. Those dark, soulful eyes spoke to her loud and clear because if there was one thing that could betray Santana's guarded defences it was her eyes.

''Leave him.''

Quinn ducked her head slightly and let out a shaky breath.

''It's not that simple.''

Santana's hand reached over to cup her chin and lift her head up again so that she could catch her eyes. Suddenly Quinn's chest burnt in an entirely different way. It burnt with guilt and regret and a pleading want and desire. It burnt with the weight of her mistakes.

It wasn't entirely a mistake to get married. At the time she had honestly loved Sam. He was so kind and attentive and just so sweet. They had been happy for a long time but now it was just flat and empty and they weren't the same. Their marriage was over. It was silent and void and the only thing that had kept them in it for as long as they had been was their two children.

Carly was five and she was so freaking magnificent Quinn didn't even know where to start. Isabelle was three and just as amazing as her sister. They were her children – her girls. Little perfect creatures that she had physically made with Sam and he was _such_ a great Dad. She always knew he would be.

''You don't love him. Not anymore – not the way you should. Trust me when I tell you that it hurts more to know your parents are in a loveless marriage. It sucks to think they're in pain because of you.''

Quinn lifted her hand to Santana's face thumb stroking her cheek before it rolled over her lips. She knew that Santana still carried a lot of residual pain from her parents' marriage. Is that what would happen to her girls? Would they hate them for staying together? Could they tell that something wasn't right?

It gutted her to think that either way they would hurt. They were so innocent and pure and wonderful. Quinn wanted to protect them and surround them in a bubble of love and happiness. They deserved a wonderful childhood because the world would soon steal their innocence away because it was brutal.

''Do you really wish they had split up?''

''Yeah. At least then they could've been happier and maybe even friends. Now they just hate each other's guts and we can't have a family function without it turning into a war zone. Why do you think I put off going home?''

Quinn paled at that. She couldn't stand the thought of her girls growing up and doing the same thing. Avoiding what should be celebrations because their parents would be bitter and spiteful. She couldn't even imagine being bitter and spiteful toward Sam at this point. He was a good man. A really decent and caring man.

They were just going through the motions though. Sure they could have some family fun and they could sit in a room together after the kids' bedtime and chat about a few things – mainly the girls. They could sit close and sort of cuddle and go to sleep next to each other.

Sex was almost none existent and when it happened it was awkward and not at all satisfying.

''How did this happen, Santana? How did I stand up and marry a guy when you were _right there_ at the time? Why couldn't we have known then?''

Santana lifted her head slightly and kissed Quinn soundly. Those were questions that she shouldn't ask because no one had any answers. They had been friends back then. Plain and simple – just friends after having met in freshman year of college. They shared some classes but they were also in the LGBT group because it wasn't a secret that Quinn had an eye for the ladies too. Sam had never cared about that.

When she and him had had their first _real_ fight when she had realised that this marriage no longer worked she had gone running to Santana and they had slept together. And despite saying it wouldn't it had happened over and over and over again until it was a full blown affair.

Quinn wasn't proud she really wasn't. But she couldn't seem to stop either. She was caught between what she thought she was obligated to do and what she desperately wanted to do. And in the middle of those two opposites sat three people she could end up destroying.

''All I know is that I love you, Quinn. I'll do anything – _be_ anything for you.''

There was a scratch in Santana's throat that made the words thicker and a glistening in her eyes. She meant that with everything. If she only got to be 'the other woman' for the rest of her life she would take that because it was so worth it. Quinn was worth it and as much as it would hurt it would be worth every single moment of pain.

What she really wanted was to make her happy. To take away the troubles in her head and have her to hold every night. She could be so much for her because Quinn made her better. She just did – she was so much better with her here. And she loved those girls – she would consider them her very own, really she already did. They were extensions of the woman she loved so how could she not?

''I love you too, Santana. You have to know that I want you so much but this…it's not just me I have to think about. Please tell me you understand?''

Santana sniffled and nodded as tears slipped sideways out of her eyes.

''I understand. It's your family, y'know?''

Quinn nodded as she put her head to the brunette's.

''Yeah, but so are you.''

XXX


	5. Coming Out

**A/N - Bit bigger than usual and not so much a one shot. Also I may have just messed up a whole lot of the timeline in Glee! I also obviously butcher the English language, so I'm very sorry that I may have done the same to the little Spanish that's in this. **

XXX

Quinn approached her girlfriend that was currently sat in a small sort of huddle in the choir room. Brittney and Puck flanked her, and then Rachel was sitting next to the blonde cheerleader and Kurt by Puck. They were laughing lightly about something and Santana's smile widened when she looked up and saw her.

The blonde would never tire of that – Santana's smile that only she was graced with. She always smiled a distinct smile for her, it wasn't for everybody else. It was the same with her eyes; they would hold a unique sparkle just for her. It was one of the reasons she loved Santana so much. Quinn didn't think anyone realised just how romantic and special the Latina could be when they were alone and the brunette didn't feel like she had to put up a front.

''Hey, I need to talk to you.''

Santana was still chuckling lightly at something and given that Rachel was shooting a good-natured scowl at Puck, Quinn guessed that he had been saying something dirty. Santana nodded as she stood up which gave Rachel the space she needed to lean over and smack Puck on the arm.

''Sure babe.''

The Latina gestured with one hand to move over to the deserted piano and used her other to gently take Quinn's arm and guide her there. The little huddle kept on talking and the rest of the club and some of the band were scattered around engrossed in their own conversations.

Santana leant against the piano and her hand slipped down Quinn's arm to take her hand.

''You know, the last time you said you needed to talk to me like that, we ended up making out in the locker room, right?''

She joked lightly with a crooked grin. It was a nice memory if she didn't say so herself. Quinn had _finally_ succumbed to her gayness and talking had rather quickly led to kissing. Glorious, phenomenal kisses too – not some 'I'm a baby lesbian, take care of me' kisses. She was a seriously awesome kisser. Anyway, Santana liked to think about that, something had been happening between them for longer but it had gone mostly unacknowledged except for certain looks and very tenuous inferences. And just when she thought that Quinn was never going to admit things and let herself be happy – she did.

''_You can make out now if you want_!''

''_Wanky_!''

The first enthusiastic heckler was of course Puck. He got two smacks upside the head for it in way of punishment from both Rachel and Kurt. The second heckler was Artie, who also got slapped for his efforts by Sugar who tutted and rolled her eyes.

Santana threw each of them a hot glare – especially Artie because that was _her_ word – before pulling Quinn around to the other side of the piano to get some more space between the earwigs.

''How did they even hear us over this noise?''

Quinn rolled her eyes but didn't sound too mad. Santana just shrugged.

''They're horny boys and we're hot assed lesbians – they have super human hearing abilities. Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?''

Santana watched as Quinn swallowed, sighed and then ruffled her choppy blonde hair. She looked around for a moment before she looked directly at her with _that_ look – that 'my mind is made up' look.

''The thing that we talked about? I wanna do it.''

Santana's eyes widened because she knew that Quinn was talking about. To be honest she was beyond shocked and instantly she started to think maybe she had pressured Quinn into it.

''You do? Are you sure? I don't want you to do it just because I…''

Quinn put her hand over Santana's mouth to shut her up.

''Look I'm scared – terrified actually, and I don't see it going well for me. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm gay or the fact that I'm in love with you. It also doesn't change the fact that because of Finn and his fucking bullhorn of a mouth, our closet doors are going to be blown wide open anyway. It's coming, Santana – and we should do this before they hear it from someone that isn't us. We can't lie forever and I for one don't want to. You're better than being my dirty little secret. We're better.''

Santana blinked and let Quinn speak and her whole body filled up with warmth at the conviction of her words. Sure she sounded nervous but there was also that steely strength running through her. Quinn didn't get just how strong she was but Santana could see it. No matter what anyone said the girl that she was in love with had never had an easy ride. Not from her family, not from this school and not even from the people in this room – especially not from herself.

She had overcome so much and it was partly the reason that Santana was forcing herself to deal with her own feelings too. She didn't exactly like to be exposed either they were alike like that. When she had first realised she was attracted to girls she had jumped on the easy rides in this school – namely Puck – to try and forget about it. To convince herself that she didn't watch the sway of feminine hips or enjoy the scent of girls. And every time she had kissed a girl, or touched a girl, or fucked a girl, or let them do the same to her – she had reasoned it off the best she could.

Until she had ended up cracking and crumbling into a pathetic mess and had a sob fest in Brittney's arms with Lord Tubbington watching her from the end of the bed. Her best friend had really pulled through and told her it was okay to be who she was. She guessed that was the start of this journey – admitting things she had trying to force down.

Since then, bit-by-bit, day-by-day and kiss-by-kiss she had ceased to fight it. It helped that Quinn had done the same; it was good to have somebody to hold onto through it too. Not that she couldn't hold onto her friends, to Brittney, but Quinn was her _girlfriend_. And when she told her that she loved her in the middle of the night, when her head was still cloudy with bliss and Quinn's hands were still in her and on her and her body was against hers and her breath was against her skin, the world seemed right. It seemed perfect.

So how could that be wrong, right?

''Ah huff ooo dooo.''

Quinn frowned and then snickered lightly as she dropped her hand from Santana's mouth so she could understand her this time around.

''I love you too.''

Santana repeated almost breathlessly. Not because Quinn had had her hand over her mouth but just because her chest was like – going insane right now.

It was pretty much catch-22 right now. They were damned if they did and damned if they didn't. Santana felt guilty because maybe if she had stopped her mouth before it ran off Finn would never have said anything in the hallway. But he just wound her up so much sometimes and she just couldn't stop the insults from flowing out of her mouth. Not that he shouldn't have chosen _that_ to hit her back with – that was just plain low.

But just knowing that Quinn thought it was inevitable anyway and so they should go ahead with what they had discussed the other night made her know that it wasn't just because they _had_ to do something. It made her feel special. Quinn thought she was special. Quinn thought _they_ were special.

Santana lifted up her hand to brush through some of Quinn's unruly strands – she had become somewhat less bothered about looking perfect – a sort of mix between her previous self and a punk/rock type self that Santana found insanely hot. The blonde just smirked and squeezed Santana's other hand that the Latina hadn't let go of.

''You really don't have to do this, Quinn. It's me that's getting forced out of the closet, we can still protect you – it's only these guys that know about us and we can keep it that way. I can protect you, baby, I don't want you to go through anymore hurt. Especially not for me.''

Quinn smiled and cupped the side of Santana's face, they had subconsciously moved closer.

''I'm not letting you do this alone.''

''But…''

''Santana, it's okay. I'm ready. Graduation is around the corner and we'll be moving onto college. I kind of want to do this before because if…if she does it again then I just want to know that, you know? Make a clean break and head toward a fresh start. With you. I can't hide and let you take on everything by yourself, even though I know you would because you're a sweetheart.''

Santana frowned and dipped her head slightly, but only frowned in that sweet kittenish and playfully pouty way she did when she got embarrassed. Usually at some compliment Quinn came out with that referred to her softer side that she guarded so well.

''Don't spread that around.''

She muttered. Quinn laughed and rolled her eyes and pulled Santana into a full body hug. She breathed in heavily and let it out again. She was terrified. She was bracing herself for another wave of pain and angst – bracing herself to be abandoned yet again. But it was worth it and she did have to know. She could live her life in secrecy and she couldn't deny who she was or who she was with.

She wasn't a kid anymore. She wasn't some scared little girl anymore. She'd survived this much already so she would survive coming out to her Mother. And if she had to go the rest of her life without her parents then so be it. Her Dad had already washed his hands; her Mother was barely involved in her life anyway. This time she wouldn't be alone. She'd have someone to hold onto.

''Whatever happens, we'll get through it Q. You and me.''

Santana stated in determination. Quinn squeezed her harder and nodded. They just held on for a little while longer until Mr. Shuester ambled into the room.

''Okay guys, let's settle down.''

He looked up from his papers and saw the two girls pull back and look a little teary eyed.

''Girls, are you okay?''

He asked softly. Santana smiled at Quinn as she used her thumbs to brush away some stray tears before she sniffed and did the same for herself and turned toward him, taking the blonde's hand again. Everyone had sat in their seats by now and seemed to be interested in what was going on.

''Yeah. Quinn and I have decided to come out to our parents.''

There were a few mutterings across their friends.

''Wow, that's a huge decision. When?''

Quinn looked at Santana and nodded.

''Tonight.''

''How do you think they'll react?''

Rachel wondered gently, more asking Quinn than anyone because of previous experiences with the Fabray's. Not personally of course but it wasn't a secret what had happened in that family anymore. Rachel had met Santana's parents and they seemed nice, but she hadn't spent a lot of time with them or anything. Brittney knew them well though and she smiled and that seemed like a good indication.

''I guess we're gunna find out.''

X-X-X-X

''Mom, I need to talk to you.''

Judy Fabray looked up and smiled serenely at her daughter. Quinn knew that her Mom had a slight buzz going on – after her Father left she didn't drink as much but she did still drink. Most days she was just a picture of polite indifference – smiling and saying nice things about things that she either didn't really listen to or didn't really understand.

It was still better than the empty shell she had been before.

Now though, Quinn walked into the living room and turned off the TV. Judy was watching some stupid god channel that even made Quinn think that it was boarder line cultish.

''Is everything okay, honey?''

Judy asked primly, smiling as she watched Quinn sit on the footrest opposite her. She leant forward and tugged gently at some strands of Quinn's choppy hair.

''Oh, I do wish you hadn't cut your hair, Quinnie.''

She mused for possibly the millionth time since her hair had been cut. Quinn let out a slow, patient breath and rolled her tongue.

''I know you do. Mom, I need you to listen to me now okay? This is important.''

Just sat up straight and nodded with a 'serious' frown across her face. It was a weird pod people expression to be honest. Quinn was a little put off by it. Still, she knew she _had_ to do this. Although _this_ was possibly the scariest thing in her life – even when Finn had sang that stupid ass song to tell her parents that she was pregnant.

Fucking imbecile. She was still mad at him about that. He had just gone ahead and done it like he did most things, not thinking about the consequences. Exactly why she and Santana were in this predicament when they hadn't expected to be.

Anyway that wasn't the point right now. The point was that she was about to deliver some major news to her Mother and not only was she terrified, but she had no idea what was going to happen. In anticipation she even had a bag packed and shoved into the trunk of her car in case she was told to leave again.

She was fully expecting it. History had taught her well.

X-X-X-X

''Mamá, Papá, ¿podemos hablar?''

Santana's voice was a little meeker than usual and she was sure that would tip off her parents. Not that she generally walked around her house with the bitchy attitude she could be known for at school, but still. She hadn't said much over dinner because she had been too nervous. Despite not having Quinn's parents to contend with it was still nerve wracking to have to tell your parents that you were a lesbian.

Santana was their youngest child; she was the baby of the family and the only girl. They actually adored her which was why she had always been a little secretive, she always wanted to be everything for them and she was so afraid that if she wasn't then they would look at her differently. Because she knew that she put on this tough front but deep down inside she felt every single thing and it was hard. It's why she tried to protect herself.

Her parents were standing at the kitchen island chuckling about something or other as they were making some desert. Everyone had been too stuffed right after dinner – well Santana hadn't been because she had picked at her Mother's food, but she was too nervous to be hungry.

''Of course, mi hija.''

Her Father said in his deep but gentle voice, smiling at her before turning his attention to pouring out the coffee he'd made. He wiggled the pot and Santana just nodded to make life easier. Plus she really liked her Dad's coffee. He also tried to dip his finger into whatever the stuff was in a silver bowl only to have his hand smacked by her Mom.

''Can we sit down?''

She suggested pointedly. Her parents shared an amused look at being bossed about by their daughter as Santana walked over to the stool at the island. She wanted them to stop what they were doing and focus.

''You want some ice cream, sweetheart?''

''No thanks.''

''You sure? I made it from scratch?''

Her Mother sing songed and wiggled a bowl. Santana sighed slowly and nodded in agreement with a small puff of hair.

''Si, whatever. Can you guys just sit down?''

She really didn't want to do this with them standing up. Or her Dad's handling a hot coffee pot. Or her Mom buzzing over homemade ice cream – however good it was. This was like – it, this was where life changed. She just needed them to sit the hell down.

A mug of coffee was slid in front of her along with a bowl of ice cream and finally her parents complied and sat down.

X – X – X – X

''Okay sweetheart. I'm listening.''

Just nodded definitively. Quinn felt like she wanted to throw up but her mask of confidence was firmly etched onto her face. She didn't want Judy to see any signs of weakness in case she thought that what she was about to say wasn't real or that she regretted it or something.

She didn't.

Finally, for once in her life, she felt good about something. She felt better. All the pain she had already been through had been reactions to things that she didn't understand. Well she sort of did understand them now and to hell if she was going to lose herself to expectations and pressures again. Quinn just wanted to _be_.

''Mom, there's something I need to tell you about myself. It may be hard for you to hear but I need you to really _listen_, okay? For me. Because this is a big deal. Actually, it's my whole life. It's something I kept trying to deny – something that I pretended I wasn't. And it didn't get me very far, I got pregnant because of it. All I've been is unhappy and miserable but…but being in glee club and seeing that it's okay…things have changed.

I can't fight it anymore. Not for you or anyone – because it hurts, _so_ much. I can't live with that inside my chest anymore I just want to be happy like everyone else. I want to include you in that because I love you and I'm afraid because we've only just started to get right but…

I just have to say it. I'm gay, Mom. I'm attracted to girls and I can't force that down anymore. I don't want to.''

X – X – X – X

''Oh, do you want some chocolate sauce with your ice cream, I can…''

Santana shook her head in dismay because her Mother was about to move again.

'''Mamá, no – escúchame, por favor. I need to tell you something and I need you to let me and really hear me, okay? Can you do that?''

Her parents nodded silently, afraid that if they said anything more they would get told off again. Santana sighed softly in relief and rolled her shoulders and sat up a little straighter as she cleared her throat. Wow she was totally unprepared.

''Gracias. Okay. I've been keeping something inside, something I tried to ignore or fight away and it's just…it's _exhausting_. I know that you have all these dreams for me, and you've both tried to be there for me. I know I haven't been the easiest kid to raise. The truth is I've always known that I'm different. Even when I was little there was always something, and I lashed out at the world to try and protect myself.

All this time I've just been fighting with myself because I've been scared. But I can't. I just can't do it anymore and you can't keep dreaming those dreams or thinking you know me when you don't know me like you should because I haven't let you.

Some things have happened at school. And I wanted to tell you this myself when I was ready, I didn't know I was already ready. I just hope that I don't disappoint you because I love you both so much.

''Mamá, Papá – I'm attracted to girls. Actually, I have a girlfriend. I'm a lesbian.''

X – X – X - X

The air of confidence had wavered a little during her talking and the emotion and the fear showed in her eyes. How could it not, right? She knew this wasn't going to be easy to hear and it hurt that she believed in her gut that she would be cast off again. Abandoned by someone that was supposed to love her.

It already happened once but in some ways this might have been worse for her parents than getting pregnant in high school. They were so straight laced in wherever they saw fit. She was already pretty much a problem child already – nothing like her sister who was fucking perfect and obedient and did everything right.

Judy's face didn't really move. _She_ didn't really move. She just stared at her with that Stepford Wife expression like she had been before – like there was literally no reaction. So Quinn waited for a couple of moments for the words and the meaning to set in.

Then she waited some more.

Then she just got downright uncomfortable and fidgety.

Her eyes began to water and she rubbed at them with the back of her hand.

''Say something.''

Judy blinked and focused on her properly.

''It's a phase.''

Quinn shook her head, stunned at the clarity in her Mother's eyes. She sniffed but that determined look came back onto her face.

''No, it's not. This is the way I am.''

''No, it's not. You've just been influenced by those…by those misfits. You're confused. You had relations with a boy, how can you possibly think this about yourself?''

Quinn flailed.

''One time – I had sex _one_ time with a guy because I was drunk and I was trying to force this down. And it was…it was the _worst_ experience of my life. It made me feel sick with myself. I felt…I felt like a whore, I felt disgusting because it wasn't right. And neither was stringing along boyfriends that I didn't really want – these are good guys and I can't do that to them. It's not right.''

''_This_ isn't right, Lucy. It's a sin.''

X – X – X – X

Santana felt her stomach twist as she stopped talking and silence overtook the kitchen. It was deafening. She hadn't really come up with a major plan. She had just improvised what to say and now she thought about it she had no idea what to do if her parents were to blow up with anger. Is this what Quinn felt like everyday? Like she was permanently holding her breath because she was waiting for the explosion to come? It was horrible.

''Please say something. Please?''

She hadn't even realised that she had started crying until she opened her mouth again and begged her parents for some kind of reaction. God, any reaction would be better than this at this point.

''Santana, you're an adult now. You get to make your own choices in life.''

Santana shook her head as she cried still.

''It's not a choice, Mamá. I didn't choose to be this way, I just am.''

Her Mother held up a hand for Santana to stop and she did.

''Just listen to me. I know you didn't choose this, mi hija. Nobody ever does. It's hard to be different, you already know that. There are people out there that will try to make your life harder if you choose to tell them who you are. Do you understand that?''

''Si.''

Santana muttered glumly.

''You're ahead of your time, Santana. You've always seen into the world and into people and they've hurt you enough. It hurts me that you have more of it to come. But we've tried to prepare you the best we can and we would never expect you to hide who you are. And we've always seen who you are, whether you knew it or not.''

She looked up at them sharply, narrowing her eyes as she eyed both of them suspiciously.

''What do you mean?''

It escaped her attention so far that they were both smirking at her softly. Her Father rolled his shoulders, much like she tended to do, as his smirk widened.

''Seriously baby girl, did you think you really hid it that well?''

X – X – X – X

''It's not a sin! How can it be a sin when it's true and pure and I'm a good person? I love like I'm supposed to love!''

Quinn demanded heatedly, standing up from the footrest now because it just wasn't physically possibly to keep sitting. She needed to move, needed to do _something_.

''There's…I mean you…you've acted on…''

''There's a girl, yes. And I love her and she loves me.''

Judy glared at her.

''Who? Who did this to you?''

Quinn rolled her head back and chuckling in exasperation. Of course she _had_ to have been corrupted. This was exactly what she had been expecting but her hope that it would be different somehow was stabbing into her now, making her regret it. Wasn't the definition of insanity repeating the same thing and expecting different results or something like that?

''No one did this to me. It's not a choice to be gay it's a choice to be proud – to be who you are. And I'm not hiding anymore. It's exhausting.''

''Quinn you're so young. You don't understand these things, the way the world works. You've never been through anything to teach you that.''

''Oh no, I've just you know – felt so awful about myself I had plastic surgery with my parents' approval, felt so awful I had sex with a guy and got pregnant – got _abandoned_ by my parents and _lost_ that baby because I had no choice but to give her up considering I had no way to take care of her.

That's not going through anything?''

Judy stood up too and as she took a step toward her daughter Quinn shook her head and backed away, far too suspicious and wounded and distrustful.

''Whatever. This isn't the point anyway. I'm telling you because you're my Mom – I'm a lesbian. I have a girlfriend. And with or without your acceptance that is going to be my life. I'm going to college in a few months – so I guess its up to you whether we see each other in the future.''

''Go to your room.''

X – X – X – X

''What? I'm sorry – I meant _what_?''

They what? They couldn't possibly have known. She was far too sneaky and subtle. They had never said a word in indication that she knew. They couldn't claim this now like they were all insightful that was so not fair. It was throwing her completely off her game too. Not that she had any game whatsoever right now. Stupid parents.

''A Mother knows her daughter, Santana.''

''And a Father knows his little girl. We're your _parents_, baby girl. We see you. We didn't know exactly what was wrong but we knew you were hurting, and we kept trying to let you know that you were here. But I guess that you had to work things out for yourself first. And when you suddenly started being happier, happier than we've ever seen you – even when you joined that glee club, we know something had changed.''

Santana's jaw had literally dropped. Her Mother laughed and her eyes drifted from her Dad to her.

''You have a crappy poker face, sweetheart. Every time your friend Quinn is here your eyes shine, and you look at each other like lovers are supposed to look at each other. Obviously this girl has your heart, and you have hers. Love is love, mi hija.

Right before our eyes you've gone from being a sweet little girl to a strong, beautiful and independent woman. The only thing that I'm disappointed in is that you actually thought you'd disappoint us. You're our _daughter_. When you have children of your own you'll know what that means.''

The next thing Santana really registered was being in a little huddle, squished between her parents and just being so very relieved. There was a moment there that she thought that this was going to be so awful and her life would be turned upside down but they were here for. They were right here and she couldn't be more grateful.

It made a world of difference to have them support her like that.

X – X – X – X

''What?''

Seriously? This was her solution? To send her to her room like a naughty child that had misbehaved over dinner? It was ridiculous. Quinn felt as though she had crossed into bizarre-o land.

''Quinn, I need to…I can't just hear this and just know how to deal with it. You're a complicated, confusing girl.''

Quinn shook her head and squared up as that HBIC cold expression morphed onto her face. It seemed to startle Judy a little bit but she was glad about that, because this expression was partly made by her parents. By her having to hide behind a mask in front of them.

''If you're going to kick me out just do it now, I'm ready for it.''

''What?''

''I have my things ready so just…do it.''

There was a long pause and Quinn felt her heart thundering against her chest. She wished that Santana was here to hold her hand. For her to look in her eyes and find her centre of gravity again because she felt like she was spinning out of control. If she was here it would be better and she could just hold her and the world would go away.

''It's a sin, Lucy. It frightens me to hear you say that it's not. It's wrong, and perverted and disgusting. You _cannot_ be this way just to get attention, I won't have it.''

Quinn let out a slow breathe, she supposed she had her answer. She dropped her head down as a tear slid out of her eye and she cleared her throat as she tried to contain the storm of emotions that were raging through her right now.

''I wasn't asking for your attention, I was asking you for your love and support. You know, the things I'm supposed to be able to take for granted? You've never come through for me, not once.''

''You try being a Mother to a bad seed. You've brought nothing but shame on this family. Just go. Go if you insist on living like that. God will punish you.''

Quinn back away and shook her head.

''Not before he punishes you.''

And then she was gone. As expected. She had already taken everything important and valuable to her. Her trunk was full of what she had packed up and the things she left she wasn't attached to. She had what she needed and she ran out into the darkness – forcing herself not to cry or break down in front of her Mother. Not this time.

X – X – X – X

By the time that Quinn knocked on the front door of the Lopez house she was disorientated and pretty much in a state of shock and numbness. She was shaking and she was sluggish and confused. When the door opened she blinked against the light in the hallway and for a moment she didn't even register that her girlfriend's Mother was stood at the door.

''Quinn? Honey, are you okay you're shaking.''

Quinn blinked up at her.

''I…I'm sorry Mrs. Lopez, I know it's late. Is it…could I maybe stay here tonight? It's okay if you don't want me here I can ask Rachel.''

Santana's Mom shook her head and reached out to gently shuffle her into the house and out of the chill in the air. Quinn blinked again because everything was bright and her eyes were stinging because she had been crying. Apparently no matter how much you prepared it still gutted you just as much.

''Of course you can, sweetie. What happened?''

It's like the tenderness and affection in Mrs. Lopez's tone just kicked out that last straw she was using to keep herself from falling apart but when the older woman squeezed her shoulder gently the flood gates opened and she ended up bursting into tears right there in the hallway. Mrs. Lopez instantly wrapped her arms around her and held her close.

Why couldn't her own Mother be more like Santana's? Why did it hurt so much to be disowned by a woman that Quinn wasn't sure she even liked or wanted to be around? It was fucked up.

''Santana, come quickly mi hija.''

Santana appeared in the hallway a moment later, followed by her curious and concerned Father, and instantly her face dropped its smile and hurt slammed across it for her girlfriend. She didn't need to ask what had happened – the fact that Quinn was here dissolving into fits of sobs told her everything and she was both sad for her and angry on her behalf.

But she couldn't do anything about Quinn's family. She couldn't change their attitude or the way they had already treat their daughter or how she had been treated tonight. What she could do was be there for her and love her like she promised. She could be all the family she needed and get her through this anyway she could.

Santana pried Quinn off of her Mother who stepped back, obviously upset and probably understanding of what had happened, and Quinn literally clung to her. Her hands fisted the material of her shirt as she shook in her arms and just cried – sobbed – wailed, whatever it was anyone wanted to call it. Santana cried too because how could she not when her girlfriend was like this?

They sank to the floor because Quinn was too far gone to keep upright and Santana couldn't hold her up forever, so she just lowered her girlfriend to the floor and held onto her tightly and rocked her – whispering that it was going to be okay and she was there, and that she loved her.

''Let me take her, sweetheart.''

It was around a half hour later that Santana realised that everything was silent and Quinn was still, finally having passed out into a fitful sleep in her arms. She blinked and realised her Dad was crouched in front of them and carefully she tipped Quinn his way and let him lift her up in his arms and carry her upstairs.

Santana swallowed thickly and took her Mother's hand to help her off of the floor as she wiped her eyes and got pulled in for a hug.

''I should've talked her out of this. This is my fault.''

''No, baby, it's not. All either of you did was fall in love. Her Mother should know better. It's okay Santana, you go be with Quinn – tell her it's going to be okay. It's going to hurt but we're her family now. Go make sure she knows she's not alone.''

Santana looked up at her Mother and her mouth opened to say something but she had no idea what to say. Words didn't seem enough. She saw that resolved look in her face though, and she knew that tomorrow would be difficult but at least a little easier than it could have been. Quinn wouldn't be alone and they only had the future to come.

So she did what she was told and went to her room and didn't let go of Quinn once.


	6. Faith

**A/N - Just a really short snippet of if it were Santana with Quinn during/after the accident. I REALLY didn't want to do anything related to that but I just ended up writing this little bit because it popped up in my head. So it's only a little fluff piece really.**

**I just also wanted to say thanks for the responses I have gotten, especially for the last one. And I'm sorry if I haven't said thanks personally just been really busy. I am working on a couple of prompts, and there was a suggestion for making a longer story out of the coming out one, but I'd have to think that over because I would want a sort of plan, but it's festering in my brain. The other prompt is a follow up to the affair going on, which is also festering in my brain - I haven't forgotten!**

XXXXXXXXX

''I'll be right over there if you need me, girls.''

Santana flicked a hand dismissively as she stepped up to the physiotherapy table and therefore up close to her girlfriend.

''Yeah, yeah – I got this Dave.''

Yes, Santana Lopez was determined. She had taken lessons and practiced and read up on this shit, it wasn't so hard – she could totally be a physiotherapist. You know, if she weren't so hell bent on being a famous singer. Otherwise, she totally could do this shit.

Dave The Physio chuckled and walked away across the large space that consisted of the physiotherapy room – a room that both Santana and Quinn were now well acquainted with after the accident.

''That was rude, San.''

Quinn reprimanded lightly, sort of half-heartedly because she knew that Santana hadn't been snapping at him, she was just eager to get stuck in. The Latina was her biggest enthusiast right now – even over her Mother. It was actually pretty damn remarkable how she had been through all of this.

She hated to admit it, really she did – but part of Quinn had been expecting Santana to run a mile when all of this happened. Sure they had been doing well in their relationship and they were almost at a years mark, and they had done all the 'I love you' exchanges and things. They had gotten through Santana being forced out of the closet and having to tell her parents she was gay – and Quinn had in turn had a sit down with her Mother.

Judy was…coping. She wasn't overjoyed by the situation but she was dealing and trying her best, and Quinn couldn't exactly ask for more than that. She had hoped for more, considering, but as long as Judy was making an effort then she could live in peace with that. And her Mom actually did like Santana – that fondness had increased as of late with all the help she had been giving them both.

It's not that Quinn thought her girlfriend was hollow or shallow – sure she had her moments like everyone, but really she was deep and insightful and she felt everything. But they were teenagers facing their last year in school, and this was a pretty damn major thing. Quinn didn't like to think about this not being temporary, but there was the slight possibility that it would be permanent.

Either way, it was a hard slog. Even when they had been made to use wheelchairs Quinn hadn't _really_ understood the inability to move and how it changed _everything_. She had respected and liked Artie a lot before but damn had her respect multiplied through the roof.

''He laughed Q, it's all good.''

Quinn rolled her eyes and just focused on what they were doing. She rested her head on her arm and just watched Santana concentrate on moving and bending her leg. It was so weird, she could feel the pressure, the warmth of Santana's hands – but she couldn't _feel_ it. Not yet. But right after the accident she couldn't even feel the pressure or the temperature so she figured it was still a step in the right direction.

''You know I kinda like having you at my mercy, baby.''

Santana looked up and winked evilly and Quinn gasped lightly as she dropped her jaw.

''Santana! Don't mock the invalid!''

She squeaked out another reprimand. Her girlfriend was insufferable – seriously. The Latina just got that mischievous and devilish smirk and look across her face and yes, she had to admit it, it did things to Quinn.

Plus she was looking all hot as usual. Just in some red shorts and a black McKinley athletics t-shirt with her hair tied up – but seriously, Santana could probably wear a garbage bag and still look like the hottest thing on earth. She was just innately beautiful. Quinn missed physically connected with her – it wasn't the sex, it was the sheer amount of contact that got lost when you had to sit in a wheelchair.

They couldn't really hand hold much – Quinn would either be pushing herself around or Santana would be. They couldn't sit on one another like they sometimes did, because she couldn't move and up until recently Quinn's back and been in a state of vulnerability. They hadn't been able to hug properly or lie together properly, or lean into one another or any simple things that she had always taken for granted.

It could be difficult, but they found ways around these things and every time Quinn had gotten frustrated and spiralled Santana had been there to help her deal with it.

''What? You can't tease me by getting me all hot and bothered then skipping off and leaving me high and dry. You just gotta commit and sex me up – I like it!''

Quinn blushed because Santana was not being any kind of discreet about announcing this, and she looked around to check if anyone was nearby – thankfully nobody was. Then she realised something else and her eyes widened in shock as she stared at her girlfriend who was currently lifting her leg right up and pressing into it.

''_Santana_! Are you…oh my god!''

Now she really _did_ blush and she bit her lip as she covered her eyes and half her face with her hand.

''I can't believe you're turned on right now.''

She snapped in a husky whisper. Santana scoffed and rolled her shoulders, looking completely unabashed about the situation.

''Oh Blondie – you should know by know I'm _always_ turned on arounds you. But c'mon Q – this shit is hot. I'm all pressed up against your business, it's not my fault. Stop being so damn sexy and I'll stop getting turned on.''

Quinn peeped out from under her hand, still blushing, and Santana grinned at her with a cocky and playful wink. Seriously – insufferable, why she expected that to change through this Quinn didn't know. Santana was still as much of a horn dog and though things had obviously changed, they still managed to get it on.

That was another little meltdown moment of hers. She had tried to push Santana away because she was hurting and vulnerable and she was having to depend on everybody when she was so used to doing things for herself. She had been convinced that Santana couldn't possibly find her sexy anymore – but the Latina had proved her wrong. She had literally swept her off of her…wheelchair, she guessed.

''Only you would get turned on during physio, Lopez.''

Santana shrugged nonchalantly as she continued her business.

''Wanky. A happy by product of helping my baby get back on her feet.''

Quinn swallowed the razor blade lump in her throat as she gazed up at her girlfriend needly.

''What if…what if I don't?''

''Don't what?''

''Get back on my feet.''

Santana looked up, her dark eyes having gone from playful mischief to more serious and contemplative. Quinn hadn't said a lot to anyone about her fears yet, she had just been flat out denying that this would last. Santana knew she was thinking about it though. In her outbursts and her tears and her silent moments – she knew that's what was whispering away in her head.

''If you don't, you don't, Q. Lots of people live happy lives in wheelchairs – look at Wheels, he's okay.''

Quinn swallowed again and her eyes stung with tears that were beginning to pool there, and her head shook slightly.

''I can't handle that.''

Santana locked their eyes and stared _right_ into her.

''Quinn, you can handle anything. And I can promise you that I'll be right there to help you handle it.''

''Don't promise that.''

''I will promise that. It's true. You think a chair will really make me stop loving you? If we don't make it Q, it won't be because of this. It'll be because we just couldn't. But…being with you has given me faith in things like love. So I have faith in you, and me and us together. And whether you're dancing by National's or you never walk again, I'm going to love you.

And I have no illusions on how difficult it's going to be either way. Life sucks here but there's the big wide world waiting for us, and half of it is going to say stuff about who we are. So I figure we got no choice but to stick together and just get each other through that shit.

Plus, I seriously doubt I could find another girl to put up with me. I'm kind of difficult, I hear.''

Quinn sniffed and reached out to take Santana's hand as those tears did slide out of her eyes. Santana said everything like it should be obvious. Like she had thought about this and made plans in her head for either which way things turned out.

Last time at National's Quinn had freaked out because she had been _so_ unhappy. She had been walking and dancing and taking things like that for granted, but so very miserable. And now she was in a wheelchair and she was probably one of the happiest people alive. Because she had hope and she had someone like Santana that loved her _that _much, and she loved her just as much.

They had sort of saved one another, in a way.

''Not that difficult.''

Santana smiled and squeezed Quinn's hand before bending over to kiss it softly.

''So, are we done worrying about that now?''

''Yes, thank you.''

''Okay, so let's get our physio on, mi amor. Then I can takes you home and do you in the shower!''

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. And there was her typical hormone driven girlfriend again. Neither of them said anything for a good 20 minutes – they just went through their routines and without even saying the words Santana just communicated her encouragement when Quinn struggled. They both concentrated on what they were doing and Quinn tried to push herself to accomplish more, because this was a work through the pain kind of deal.

''Santana?''

''Yeah babe?''

Quinn smiled, she was hot and a little sweaty and was a little thankful to be taking a moment's pause, but she was still happy and positive and enthused.

''I love you.''

Santana smiled and leant over the side of the table to brush a soft, sweet kiss on those lips that she craved all of the time. She stood back up again and helped Quinn drink some water, stroking her damp hair aside, before she leant back down and kissed her again.

''I love you too, beautiful.''


	7. Leave 2

**A/N - So this is a follow up to Leave. I say 'a follow up' because its an installment rather than a completing second half. My brain has thought up a slightly large plan - the plan may not go to plan, but we'll see! It might happen in 3 parts. So any suggestions for the 3rd, feel free to pass them on! **

**X x X**

Quinn smiled as she heard the glass door of the large shower cubicle click open, a body step in, and click shut again. It was half a second later that hands slid onto her hips and slid forward until arms were encompassing her and a luscious body was pressed into her back.

The hot spray of the shower pulsed down on her but it did nothing to disguise the feel of hot breath on her skin before she felt a kiss being placed in the crook of her shoulder by the same mouth that had wreaked holy blissful pleasure on her for most of the night. She was just hoping that her voice would even out by the time she got home, because right now it was a little hoarse.

''I rolled over and you weren't there.''

Santana whispered hotly against her neck, no particular tone – just husk. Her fingers sprawled out along Quinn's abs, applying just enough pressure to be slightly tantalising. Her voice was still mixed up with sleep as well as lust and the underlying love that she felt.

Too many mornings she rolled over and Quinn wasn't there – too many nights she cuddled up with a pillow because Quinn wasn't there. She _couldn't_ be there, because she had a husband that expected her in the bed that _they_ shared together.

It was getting harder. Pretending that this was enough. It stung every time she thought about the woman she loved with _him_. And then it stung some more because she actually loved Sam; he was a great friend that she didn't want to be jealous of or resentful toward. _They_ were hurting him, not the other way around, but she couldn't help but get irrationally angry sometimes toward him just because he was married to Quinn.

He got to spend more time with her, he got to touch her where and when he wanted – he got to sleep next to her every night. They had a life together. And he could give her what she could never, ever hope to – children. Sure they could have kids and all, and that was great. But Santana could never provide the seed like he did. She was biologically ill equipped.

She had to tell herself over and over again that Quinn loved _her_. She had to tell herself over and over again that Quinn _loved_ her.

''You looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake you.''

Quinn turned around in Santana's arms, her green eyes glowing as they studied the Latina's features.

''You are so beautiful.''

She whispered with her own husky tone, it was like a soft murmur, but sincere and almost awed. She lifted up a hand to trace the soft, tan skin of the brunette's face with the pad of her finger – gently running it across Santana's lower lip before she leant in and kissed her soundly. Tongue greeted tongue and lips smacked and clashed together.

Quinn didn't want this to end. She didn't want to get out of the shower and face reality, but she knew that very shortly she had to return home. She had a family – a husband and children that needed her. They _needed_ her – Santana needed her…it made this all so impossible.

It was hanging over them like a guillotine. The sharp blade ready to fall and instantly cut through the haze that they had been in since Quinn had arrived yesterday. She had met Santana during the day at the recording studios downtown, and had enjoyed listening to her work like she always did. They had gone to dinner and then came back here to Santana's apartment, using every second they possibly could to just be together.

It wasn't just the sex; it wasn't all about just that. It was the time they spent holding one another and talking. It was so intimate and personal – it was special. They trusted one another; they opened up and bared things that were rarely shown to other people.

It worked. They worked – the only problem in the whole scenario was that one of them was betraying a husband and one was betraying a friend. And it was killing them both, slowly but surely.

So they took one last opportunity to sate one another. To taste skin and sink fingers into heat, to provoke powerful sensations and see stars and to just feel. The water that cascaded from the shower barely a blip on their radar as they just gave way to the magnetic pull between them.

But as they held against one another, panting, Santana's head resting against the top of Quinn's shoulder – she couldn't stop the words from surfacing from the box that she tried to keep them stuffed into. Because why on earth would she want to cause trouble for herself? Why on earth would she want to rock the boat and pull this particular thread, knowing where it lead?

''Are you having sex with him?''

Quinn frowned, her blood still echoed through her ears and the shower continued to pour so for a moment she thought that she had misheard – or perhaps just imagined Santana's voice. But the Latina's body had tensed slightly. Gone was the easy and relaxed demeanour of her body – it had contorted into a classic, tighter and protective kind of stance, and the one she used to physical brace herself for impact or distance herself from something that she didn't like.

See, Quinn knew Santana's body that well – but she also knew _her_ that well. Which meant that if she lied right now, Santana would know. And there was enough lying going on in both of their lives right now.

''Santana…''

It was a plea to not pursue this, which of course was an answer within itself, but Santana lifted her head up and looking Quinn square in the eyes.

''Quinn, are you having sex with Sam or not?''

Quinn bit her bottom lip as she stared at her lover. She didn't know whether she could call her a girlfriend or not. Could you really have a girlfriend if you were married already? She didn't know, she wasn't actually sure if she wanted to know because this all hurt so much.

''Yes.''

A small, sharp breath left Santana's throat and she ducked her head though didn't move away from the blonde. Quinn took her face into her hands and lifted it up so they could look at one another again.

''It isn't very often, okay? We barely touch each other, let alone that.''

Santana swallowed the lump in her throat and withdrew her head back and shrugged coolly.

''No, it's fine. You're married to him. It's fine, just forget I brought it up.''

''Baby, I'm sorry.''

Santana did take a step back now and didn't let her eyes meet Quinn's. She didn't know what she was thinking by asking, she _knew_ that it happened. She knew she shouldn't be the one that got upset about it. Sam had every right to be with his wife, right? He probably thought that Quinn just needed some space, and maybe they would start humping like rabbits like they used to when she was ready to again. He was kind of a gentleman like that. They had had two children – he probably thought that Quinn was bound to have some sort of lull.

He loved her – it's not like she could blame him for that. Not really.

''When ugh…when was the last time?''

Quinn frowned in shock as she dropped her jaw slightly.

''_What_?''

Santana gave her a sharp glare.

''When did you fuck him last, Quinn?''

She yelled abruptly, actually causing Quinn to flinch slightly because it caught her off guard. She wasn't scared she just hadn't expected the sudden volume – or the bitterness behind it. But really, was that all so surprising? Santana was a possessive kind of woman. She ran hot all of the time, and she was passionate and raw. It really actually wasn't surprising that she struggled with this. Even she did – because every time that Sam did touch her, she felt wrong. She felt like pushing him aside and telling him he had no right to touch her, because that was Santana's right. She felt like being offended that he even thought about it.

But she did love him, and she knew that things would get even worse if they stopped completely because he would get worried and want to talk it out. He wouldn't stop until he found the truth. And the truth lead directly to Santana.

''I am not doing this with you.''

''I want to know.''

''No! You don't. You want to hate him but you can't. He doesn't know, and I'm his _wife_. It doesn't mean that I feel the same way as I do when I'm with you. I have to imagine it's you.''

Quinn's voice got shaky as tears escaped her eyes, she felt like she had been sucker punched or something. She felt disorientated and as though her world was being ripped apart at the seams. It was always coming – there was always a point where everything was going to self-destruct. That she and Santana would start to bleed too, because of her inability to make the hard decisions – she didn't want to hurt anybody, but instead she was hurting everybody.

''Does he make you cum?''

''Stop it.''

''Does he make you hot and wet? Do you moan and pant and beg when he's fucking you? Do you ask for more? How fast does it take for you to drop your panties and spread open for him, Quinn? Do you screw him and then come to me to get the best of both?''

Quinn's eyes darkened angrily as she shoved Santana forcefully, making her stagger back a little.

''Fuck you. Do you have _any_ idea how hard this is for me? I know I'm hurting you but don't ever say anything like that to me again. You think that it's easy to end a marriage? You think it's easy to rip apart and entire family? You don't, so shut the fuck up. I'm doing my best. And I know you love Sam too, you know that I don't want him the way I want you. But it's _Sam_ – and I married him and I have babies with him, and that's a lot of history to just end, okay? He's my friend…you are both my family, and one way or another I end up hurting and losing somebody. That's my fault but it's still just as crushing. I am doing my best.''

Quinn pushed her way passed the Latina and fumbled out of the shower cubicle in a state of crying and sniffling because she just couldn't take any more venom from Santana. Even though she deserved it she couldn't take it. Especially not over having sex with her husband. It really wasn't any kind of regular but she knew that didn't mean a damn thing to Santana, because all she'd be able to think about was him touching her. Quinn felt like she cheated on Santana every time that she did sleep with Sam – no matter how irregular it was, and it was a worse feeling than actually just cheating on him all together. She didn't expect Santana to understand that because she had never been in this position. She had never cheated on anybody, or gotten married and had children and then realised she was in love with somebody completely different. She didn't know what this felt like, and Quinn didn't want her to.

And she knew that the longer she hesitated over leaving Sam the more Santana felt unworthy and like she was being used, or that Quinn didn't love her or like it wasn't real or something. But at the same time it was just like she had said, it was a lot of history to just end.

It didn't help that Santana had inadvertently hit a nerve because she'd slept with Sam last week. It was freaking amazing how a good supply of wine and music caught you off guard.

Quinn tried herself off and got dressed in silence in Santana's guest room after grabbing her stuff. She knew that the Latina had gotten out of the shower too because she heard noises, and when she was ready she wished that she could just take everything back. Maybe the trigger had been leaving Santana's arms this morning – if she could she would have just stayed there, basking in her warmth.

When she ventured out of the bedroom and further into Santana's apartment, she heard the Latina's voice drifting from her office and she walked to the doorway to see her pacing in front of her desk on the phone. She looked up at her, but her expression was reserved and guarded.

''You going?''

Quinn nodded.

''Yeah.''

''Fine. I guess I'll see you at the weekend for Finn's party.''

Santana's tone was dismissive and cold and brutal, but she was hurting so she was lashing out. Quinn just nodded again and Santana turned her back on her and continued her conversation on the phone. Quinn watched her for a moment, dejected, and then eventually let herself out and went on her way.

X – X – X – X

To Quinn there was little on this earth that could dilute the power of love for her children. The joy that came from connecting with them, from protecting them and raising them and teaching them – it was immeasurable. They were the most important things in the world to her.

She was definitely a Mama bear. If you messed with the Fabray girls you messed with her, and she would go out of her way to mess up your world. She'd do anything for these girls; they were her babies she had made them. How anyone found it in themselves to hurt their kids – to abuse them in anyway or neglect them, she couldn't fathom. It just didn't fit inside of her head. She looked at those two little beautiful faces and she just couldn't understand how it could happen.

They were so goddamn amazing – these phenomenal little people that were made out of her. She could feel them, every single second of every day. No matter what she was doing, she knew they were there, her body and her being felt them and it never went away.

She knew when something was wrong with either one of them. Like she had known that Carly was very ill when she was 2 – she had woken up in the dead of night with a strange, unsettled feeling and when she had gone to check on her toddler she had been burning with fever. She had just known something was wrong and right away she'd woken Sam up and they'd rushed her to the hospital.

When she asked for a scan when she was pregnant with Isabelle the Doctor thought she was crazy, but she had insisted and sure enough there had been something wrong with her heart. It was okay now, she was strong and healthy like it had never existed, but without that knowing it may not have been picked up in time to be fixed.

She knew when they were upset, she knew when they were hungry, she knew when they had bad dreams and she knew when they were hurting. She just knew them because she was their Mother and she _felt_ them. They were part of her.

Immediately when she had arrived home she was kidnapped by her excited daughter's and stolen away to hide in their princess castle in the garden. They lived just outside of the city, the house was a big family house with a garden to play in and the street was safe. They got to run around and play together and their dog, who was technically Quinn's but had abandoned her to be the girls' best friend and protector. He was a big lug but he was gentle with the babies and very, very protective. He would put himself in front of them and anyone he didn't trust.

''What're we playing?''

Quinn smirked as Carly set a crown on top of her head and Isabelle clambered all over her like a human climbing frame, adamant to stand on her legs and wrap her arms around her neck and plant sloppy kisses all over her face.

''We is princesses 'n you is da queen!''

Carly stated happily. There was a table with plastic finery laid out on it, and a host of teddy bears and other stuffed animals all lined up or sat in strategic places, some with cups in front of them and little haphazardly made crowns pinned onto their heads. The dog, Arrow, sat at the end of the table, panting but happy and obedient.

''Dwink dis Mommy!''

Carly thrust a chalice at Quinn so she took it with a chuckle and pretended to sip the non-existent drink.

''Magic potion!''

Isabelle hummed happily, bouncing on Quinn heavily – she just loved being a human bouncy castle. Quinn kissed her little face and then tickled her a little bit, making her laugh harder before she reached out and grabbed Carly to pull her into the little huddle of kisses, hugs and cuddles. Then of course Arrow woofed and joined in!

That's how they were found – in a little huddle of love when Sam stuck his head through the door curiously.

''Do I get to play?''

The girls squealed because their Daddy was home – last night had been a night with their Grandma who was still in the house somewhere, Sam had gone out on a 'boys night' and Quinn had made plans with Santana.

Carly jumped up and pulled him in, and he knocked his head on the door because she yanked him in so fast.

''Yous has to sit there Daddy. Mommy is da queen and…and yous is her king. She in charge doe.''

Quinn lifted up an amused eyebrow as Sam scoffed as his daughter bossed him into the space next to his wife.

''Yeah, and you take just after her.''

He drawled sarcastically, earning a glare from both of them. His eyes widened as he looked between the two of them, even Isabelle looked like she was attempting that patented look of reprimand that Quinn had always been so good at as she sat on her Mother's knee.

''Wow, that's just freaky.''

Carly huffed dramatically before lunging a cup at him. Quinn got a chalice but apparently kinds just got ordinary cups, but he just shrugged and took it, pretending to drink whatever was supposed to be in there.

And to anyone on the outside for the next 15 minutes they were just an ordinary, happy family. They were laughing and talking and singing a little bit, Carly was definitely directing this playtime and was content in jabbering away about fairytales and the random plot that she had concocted in her head. In between that they managed to weed out what she and Isabelle had done in their absence and whether they had behaved for their Grammy. Apparently they had, but they would be checking that out with her, just in case.

Even little angels had their wilder days.

As the time went by though Quinn began to feel weird. She shrugged it off and smiled at her kids and cuddled Isabelle who still happily sat on her knee, obviously feeling a little clingy today. Sometimes you had to chase her and grab her up if you wanted a snuggle because she would be off doing 'big girl' things and being all independent. Usually following her sister all over and idolising the crap out of her.

Quinn knew this feeling but she didn't want to register it in her head.

''Sam, take Iz.''

Quinn lifted Isabelle off of her knee and held her toward Sam, who looked at her with confusion.

''What?''

''Seriously, take her – right now.''

Sam took his daughter and Quinn bolted out of the castle and ran up to the house. She completely ignored her Mother-in-law that sat listening to the radio in the kitchen as something cooked in the oven, and only just managed to make it to the downstairs toilet before she was on her knees and hurling her guts up into it.

''Quinn? Honey, are you okay?''

There was a light tap on the door as Mary's voice filtered through it, full of concern.

''I'm fine, Mary, thanks. I'll be out in a minute.''

Only half certain that she had finished now, Quinn slumped down next to the toilet as she flushed it and panted lightly. This could seriously not be happening to her. It wasn't even funny. But she just knew, because she had just known the last two times this had happened to her. She knew what this feeling was, and it had been the same kind of timing as those times too. She knew her body pretty well, and this wasn't some bug or stress or whatever. She wasn't sick.

She was pregnant.


	8. Weepy Drunk

**A/N - Just a bit of fluff! Have signed the FF net petition, anyone that hasn't PLEASE DO at Change org - if you search for FF net then it's the top petition. Join together people!**

XXX

It was almost 4am when Santana stumbled into the quiet, still loft. Her girlfriend had been nice enough to leave on some soft lamps for her return so that she could see. It may or may not help with the not falling over and breaking things because she was drunk, just because she could see didn't necessarily mean she would be able to coordinate her body.

The Latina paused for a moment to get her bearings before she locked the door behind her. Then in a stroke of absolute genius she slipped out of her heels – groaning slightly because it was _so good_ to get out of those – and shoved them onto the side table. Why the side table? She had no idea it just seemed like a great idea.

The next thing that the inebriated woman did was swagger along toward the kitchen – bumping and subsequently shushing an archway wall as she went – to get some water. She smirked as she saw a bottle sat on the counter next to some pills with a post it note.

_Take these before you come to bed and pass out, sweetie. _

The neat scrawl of her lover made her smile and Santana did as she was instructed to do. She had been a _lot_ drunker than this in her life and she wasn't quite at that pass out stage, but she was very nicely buzzed. She had actually stopped drinking over an hour ago and instead had been chugging down orange juice and doing a lot of dancing.

After finishing the water and having taken the pills Santana began to make her way toward the bedroom. She tried to be as quiet as possible and slowly opened the door and crept in. It was darkened but the en suit bathroom light was on and the door was open enough to spread some light to see – and it was quiet.

The head of the ever faithful English bullmastiff of Quinn's popped up – he was sprawled across her side of the bed and made a deep grunting noise and his tail began to thump the bed as he saw that it was only Santana and not some murderer or something. He was almost as heavy as her and Quinn's weight combined and could have probably snapped them like a twig but he was _such_ a gentle sweetheart that it was just unimaginable.

''Move over!''

Santana 'whispered' – unable to stop the affectionate smirk as Apollo simply stared at her, reluctant to leave his comfortable position.

''_Apollo_! Off!''

She flailed and clicked her fingers and with a groan he hefted himself up and walked down the ridiculously huge bed and hopped down, walking over to her to give her a loving nudge and she scratched his head before he walked over to his massive doggy bed by the window that was pretty much a wall. He liked the view Quinn said.

Now she just had to get out of her dress – which was kind of easier said than done. She grunted as she tried to peel the red fabric that was apparently _moulded_ to her. Seriously, was it like a freaking second skin or something?

''You know, you are _not_ a quiet drunk.''

Santana blinked as a bedside lamp was switched on and after a moment of being dazed by that she smiled at the woman she loved who sat up in bed with an amused and sleepy lop sided smirk as she ran a hand through her floppy blonde hair probably so she could see, given that it went everywhere. That was ridiculously sexy if Santana didn't think so herself – when they had met Quinn had had long tresses and the Latina had loved them, but she also loved this shorter choppy style too – because really, Quinn could probably shave her head and still be the most beautiful woman in the world.

''Lo siento, mami. I tried.''

Quinn chuckled and pushed the dark cover off of her so she could crawl over the bed and kneel in front of her girlfriend. Most people would probably be annoyed at being woken up at close to 4 in the morning but Quinn was slightly amused and she thought Santana drunk was really cute.

''It's okay; you're not exactly quiet at _anything_! Did you have a good time?''

Santana nodded as she let Quinn pull the side zip of her dress down easily.

''Si, but I missed you. I wish you had been there.''

Quinn grunted as she pulled Santana's dress up and over her head – aided by the Latina lifting up her arms compliantly.

''I know baby, but I was just so tired. I'm glad you had a good time though, have you had your weepy session yet?''

Quinn had had a tough week filming at work and so when Santana's music crew had invited her to the 3 birthday's celebration she had reluctantly turned it out. She probably could have wiggled into a dress and strapped on some heels and forced herself to stay awake but really – the only thing she had been desperate to do was come home, eat and collapse into bed. Hell she hadn't even made it to 9pm before she was sprawled across the bed and face planted into her pillow.

She wasn't one of those girlfriend's that insisted they do everything as a couple – Santana and she did plenty of things separately so she had told her to go and have a great time with her friends and do some drinking and dancing. The Latina had been working hard too so why not let off a little steam?

The dress came off and Quinn tossed it over toward a chair across from the bed and then looked back up at her girlfriend who now had her hands on her hips and was looking sideways and trying not to burst out into tears. Quinn smiled – evidently not.

''_No_…''

''Aww baby, c'mere.''

Quinn couldn't help but chuckle lightly as she tilted forward and wrapped her arms around a sniffling Latina. Seriously, the girl could just not drink without getting weepy at some point, because she was a sweet weepy drunk that got all clingy. It was really sweet actually – somehow a usually composed Santana turned into an emotional little girl that needed a lot of comforting and lots of love and snuggles. Quinn didn't mind, the 'weepy session' would pass after a little while and she'd just be drunk again, but it was a cute side quirk of Santana's.

''You're just _so_ blonde, Q – and so beautiful and smart…like _seriously_ smart and you leave water out and lamps on and have a dog twice your size and you're so understanding and I just love you so much, you're just _so awesome_ and a total whore in the sack and so fucking talented…you're like – _perfect_ and I just…I have so many _feelings_.''

Santana rambled out barely pausing for breath as she sniffed and let the emotions sweep over her because she _did_ have all of these feelings. She _always_ had a lot of feelings but she just didn't usually let them all sweep around her like this – she channelled them – she wrote songs and sang them. Singing was good – but she didn't think she should break into song right now; Apollo might start howling along or something.

She hand her arms wrapped around Quinn too as the blonde held her and rubbed her back and let her ramble and she nuzzled her face to the top of her head and sniffed again. God she could be pathetic.

''I know you do sweetie, and I love you too.''

Santana guffawed and squeaked at the same time somehow as she pulled Quinn back to look at her face – haphazardly cupping it with her hands and not realising she was squishing it a little bit.

''But you're like a freaking goddess and I'm…''

Quinn put her hand over her girlfriend's mouth and she didn't hear what came out of her mouth because it was too muffled, but that was the point. She stretched herself out a little more to be able to reach up and place a delicate kiss on Santana's mouth. She tasted like tequila and other assorted alcohol and Quinn was pretty sure that her girlfriend might have sneaked in a couple of smokes, and she also tasted salty from her tears – but she didn't care. Because underneath all of that was Santana and the way she always tasted and that was the only taste she wanted for the rest of her life.

They had been together for two and a half years – after the two-year mark they had decided to live together and it was great. They had a good life together and they understood one another's time constraints when they occurred but they supported one another in each other's endeavours. Being a celebrity couple could be hard but they reserved a lot of things for themselves – they kept the brunt of their relationship private and were just like any other couple, at the end of the day.

Santana would forget to put the cap on the toothpaste and walked around in her underwear at inappropriate times, and she had a borderline obsession with breadsticks and she made plenty of comments about the hotness of other women. But that was Santana and Quinn loved her and she wouldn't take her any other way. Even when she got stroppy and closed off and shouted at her and took too long to understand what she had said or done that was hurtful or offensive – because she didn't _mean_ to be hurtful or offensive.

''You're the love of my life, Santana Carmelita Lopez – and don't you forget it. You're beautiful, you're sexy, you're a wonderful person and you are the woman of my dreams.''

Santana pouted, sniffed, but was calmer and picked imaginary lint off of Quinn's t-shirt – a t-shirt that she had stolen from Santana herself because it smelt like her and she loved it – it was a Cheerio's t-shirt so pretty old but still intact. Quinn had laughed so hard when she found out that the Latina had been a head cheerleader, it was very surprising yet not surprising at all at the same time. She was also pretty happy that Santana had kept her cheerleading uniform. _Very happy_ actually.

''Even when I'm a weepy hysterical drunk?''

Quinn placed another kiss on Santana's pouty lips.

''Especially when you're a weepy hysterical drunk.''

That earned her an 'I don't believe you but that was so sweet of you to say' smirk. Quinn smiled and brushed away Santana's tears and she knew that the slightly shorter woman was levelling out again and her weepy fest was more or less over.

''You know what makes me feel better?''

Quinn lifted an eyebrow at the tone that slipped out in that question – it was unmistakable and even if it hadn't filtered through she knew where that question was heading to. And she _definitely_ wasn't apposed to fooling around with her girlfriend. Actually, considering that she had been holding her while she was half naked in black lacy 'fuck me' lingerie Quinn thought she'd done a _damn_ good job not just throwing her down and having at it right away.

''Sex?''

Santana laughed and stroked through Quinn's hair as she nodded.

''Sex. You know me so well, mami.''

Quinn just laughed into a kiss that Santana initiated at the same time as she pushed her backward to flop onto the bed. It was sunrise before either of them eventually slipped into slumber.


	9. The Better Part Of Me

This is a prompt fill for **Ryoko05**. It's one of two that I got and I didn't forget just been so very busy and trying to piece together in my head what to do with them! Here's the prompt for this one –

_OMG...can I make a request please? Superman/Glee crossover_

_Santana-Clark Kent_

_Quinn- Lois Lane _

_Rachel- Jimmy Olson (changed to Blaine)_

_Brittany- Kara Kent _

_Instead of mild mannered she's actually a huge jerk and people think she's selfish but Superwomen is this really nice caring women. SOOO there is no way Santana could be Superwomen hahaha. How do you get the girl who likes your super hero side to also like your cover without giving away your secret._

I will admit here and now that this stumped me a little bit – I've never done an _AU_ kind of AU before, if that makes sense? And I don't know a huge amount about Superman beyond some of the films so I had to wrap my head around it a bit and I think that I've done it a little bit differently than requested but hope that it's mostly the kind if idea you had in mind Ryoko. If not I apologise! Oh and it was decided that Jimmy Olson would probably be more Blaine type because of the way he dresses.

Sorry it took so long and I hope you like it, and it turned out it was pretty fun to write in the end.

XxXxX

''Hey, move it or lose it tubers.''

Quinn Fabray's perfectly good morning was suddenly ruined thanks to the most evil, foul mouthed, bitch on heels woman she had ever had the misfortune of coming across. And Quinn was a canny crime reporter so she had seen her far share of evil; foul mouthed bitches – and he-bitches. Mostly she got the pleasure of uncovering their dastardly crimes and exposing them in her award winning newspaper articles – sometimes even collaborating along with the Metropolitan Police Department to help them catch the bad guys. See, she could do things that the police couldn't – so it could be a helpful collaboration to have.

Ever since she was a little girl she had wanted to be an investigative reporter. The affairs of the world and her very own city fascinated her and she was driven to seek the truth at all possible costs. It could be hard, it could be nasty and it could be dangerous – but she believed that if truth failed then the human race were essentially ruined. Her Father was a veteran and she had actually been quite happy to move around from base to base wherever he got posted. She always had her Mom and her big sister Frannie to depend on, and they in turn could depend on her.

Simply speaking she was the real deal. However, not the same could be said of Santana pain-in-the-ass Lopez – not in Quinn's eyes, anyways.

Santana had shoved passed her in a hurry, uncaring of the fact that she was holding coffee that was now oozing down her brand new, crisp white shirt. Quinn closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as she tried to contain her anger – her fellow 'reporter' had zoomed off, she had no idea where. Seriously, she just disappeared for no reason all of the damn time. One minute she would be there – the next? Poof! It was like she just took off flying or vanished into thin air or something.

Quinn scoffed, oh wouldn't Santana just _love_ that? To have the same powers of the city's beloved heroine Superwoman. Now _there_ was the real deal. Whenever there was trouble she would appear, in her blue and red costume – helping anybody that needed help. Rich or poor, black or white, young or old – Superwoman did not differentiate. She didn't even refuse help to criminals – instead going out of her way to ensure their safety so that she could hand them off to the police to put in jail.

She was _nothing_ like Santana – the complete opposite in fact. Polite, friendly, heroic – she was amazing, actually. Quinn was quite the expert on her, as she had had many opportunities to speak to Superwoman. She was very private really, but she would visit Quinn and talk to her. And of course there were all those times that she had saved her life….Quinn could get herself into some sticky situations, it was true.

''Oh no…''

Quinn's furious eyes snapped up to one of the sweetest people that worked here at The Daily Mail.

''I. Am going to. _Kill her_!''

She seethed, daring finally to move the coffee up away from her. Her shirt was completely ruined – and what's more, everyone now had a spectacular view of her bra – even under the thin vest she was wearing.

''Quinn, I…I'm sure she didn't mean it.''

Brittney Pierce was…well; Quinn wasn't exactly sure what she did around here to be honest. But she was sweet and helpful and everybody loved her. She wasn't exactly book smart but she had her own set of smarts that were insightful and quite profound. Quinn liked her a lot. How Santana got such loyalty from Brittney she would never know, she just couldn't understand why someone so sweet and pure and innocent would be friends with someone so mean and evil and spiteful.

''The hell she didn't, B. I _hate_ her.''

Brittney tilted her head, eyes sparkling.

''No, you don't.''

''Yes I do! I hate her! She's mean to people, she's rude; she's constantly getting in the way and stealing my leads. She is a _horrible_ person.''

Brittney smirked lightly, knowingly – but it was lost on Quinn due to her fury.

''No, she's not.''

''Yes she is! Yesterday she shoved the picture of my _daughter_ into a draw because she said she couldn't stand looking at it because she looked like a lizard! She called her a _lizard_ _child_, Brittney! Kara is 4 years old! And cute! And nothing like a damn lizard!''

Quinn flailed, absently sending the little coffee left in her take out cup flying to the ground, her other hand clutching the files she had been bringing back to the office after doing some research last night. Everyone kept looking over but she didn't care – she was just so damn angry. And insulted – and _frustrated_!

''I did _not_ go through 6 years of ivy league education to have to deal with…with…_this_!''

She yelled definitively as she indicated herself before storming off in a huff. Everyone including Brittney watched as the irate blonde slammed her files onto her desk and groaned as she practically threw herself into her swivel chair, slumped down in it and held her head. The day hadn't even started yet and already it had come to this.

''I'll go and get some new clothes from your apartment, okay Q? I'll be quick I promise.''

Brittney called to her friend before she ran off toward the stairwell rather than waiting for the elevator. No one saw her go up instead of down and no one saw her use her abilities to get to Quinn's uptown apartment that she shared with her daughter. Kara wasn't there – she was at kindergarten. Quinn was a single Mom – Brittney didn't really know why, she didn't like to bring it up because Quinn never said much of anything about it. All she said was that Kara's Dad was nice and that he was dead. Brittney didn't know whether that was true or not, it probably was because Quinn tended to be very honest about things – but it was her business.

She looked through Quinn's closet and grabbed an outfit reasonably similar to the one she had been wearing pre-coffee explosion, and then put it in one of the suit carrier zip up bags to keep it nice and safe and clean.

''What're you doing here?''

Brittney squeaked in surprise when she walked out of Quinn's bedroom again, only to be faced with Superwoman.

''What're _you_ doing here?''

She demanded back still a little off kilter at being caught off guard. There was Superwoman, in all her glory – the costume and the cape and the mask. The mask was new, really – sort of like one of those masquerade type facemasks. It left her eyes clear but much of her face was obscured because of it – which was of course exactly what Santana wanted.

''I uh…saw you.''

Brittney threw her a 'whatever' look that encompassed all her disbelief of that stuttered statement. Santana sighed and pulled her mask off.

''I'm here because once again, _I'm_ cleaning up _your_ mess. You have to be nicer to people, Santana! Especially Quinn!''

Brittney ordered determinedly, but all she received was a scowl as the brunette folded her arms across her chest and scoffed. She was so damn obstinate sometimes.

''Keep dreaming, sweet cheeks.''

Brittney stamped her foot.

''Santana! I know you're in love with Quinn…''

Santana's scowl deepened as she straightened up in a defensive posture.

''Are you _high_?''

''…and she loves you too. You're just so…so…_you_! Why can't you just let her see who you really are?''

Santana flailed.

''That _is_ who I really am, okay? I don't need anyone, you got that? I don't need Quinn and I don't need her snotty little kid, and I don't need _you_ interfering. I spend enough time flying around saving these idiot humans everyday who take their stupid little lives for granted – take each other for granted – so I deserve to just be Santana when I get to be. Do you think they want me to be human?

Do you think _anyone_ wants to know who Superwoman really is? They don't care! As long as they have someone to depend on and someone to safe their sorry asses, they'll never care! And Quinn…Quinn may love the idea of Superwoman but how do you think she'd feel if she found out it was me? She doesn't want to know either. So just stop it.''

Santana looked away after explosion, the pain and the devastation pouring into her eyes, her tone – her whole body. She was terrified. Superwoman was terrified of one single solitary human being…well, and her little tiny human being. She was scared of exposure but what she was even more afraid of? Having someone see _her_ – the real her, inside and seeing just how vulnerable she was.

''You're not the only one that lost your planet, San. You are the only family I have left now. I want you to be happy, you're my cousin – I know it's hard to love again, and connect again…but if we don't then our people are all truly gone, because we'd be destroyed too. Maybe these people are self-indulgent, maybe they do take things for granted – but they're young. They have potential. Most of them are good, loving people that just want to live their lives. Maybe they don't all need to see you, but _somebody_ needs to – and I know that somebody is Quinn.''

Santana still refused to look at her cousin but there were tears in her eyes that she was desperately trying to hold back.

''I can't…she doesn't love me. She loves _her_.''

Brittney smiled as she stepped forward and gently placed her hand on the brunette's face.

''You and her are the same person, Santana. She loves both of you.''

And with that Brittney left all that was left of her kin alone in Quinn's home – knowing that she hadn't seen her enter it at all, she knew that Santana came here a lot. Maybe not usually inside, but seeing Quinn was like a breathe of fresh air for her she could tell. Santana liked to see for herself that she and Kara were safe and sound, doing daily routines and laughing at something or dancing around the living room. Things that human Mother's and daughter's did – things that their own Mother's had done.

XxX

''Hey, Pillsbury Dough Turd, get over here.''

It was lunchtime and once again Santana just had to use a derogatory term to get their lunch boy to push the lunch cart toward her desk – the one that Quinn unfortunately had the displeasure of having her own desk connected to. It was a nightmare, seriously. Santana had appeared back in the office in her usual foul mood and taking a disturbing amount of pleasure in being mean to people, thinking she was so damn funny and witty when she thought up names and ways to be insulting.

Finn grimaced but headed their way with no small amount of fear and displeasure. Santana sat back in her chair, idly twiddling a pencil between her fingers as she eyed him with sharp scrutiny.

''You got any custard for those pieces of pie, Finnept?''

''Uh…no, we don't do custard.''

''Well then, how bout we get a straw and tap your custard filled jiggly man boobs so we can have some? Maybe then we won't have to call you Lumps The Clown.''

Quinn sighed and slapped her bed down onto the desk.

''Stop it, Santana. Leave Finn alone. Do you _have_ to be so rude _all_ of the time?''

Santana snapped her cold stare onto Quinn.

''Hey, it ain't my fault that Lurch here is full of jelly and has the IQ of a goldfish – I'm just keepin' it reals, babe.''

The blonde pointed at her with a glare.

''I am _not_ your babe. Finn, just ignore her she's just an insecure, childish bitch. You look perfectly hansom the way you are.''

Finn promptly beamed happily and almost fell over himself to turn toward her and grab a plate and shove it in her direction.

''I brought your favourite! Tuna on rye, no tomatoes but extra salad!''

Quinn smiled at him politely (if not secretly worried she had a stalker) and took the plated sandwich as her other hand reached for her purse. Yet again, like he did every single day, Finn shook his head to the point she worried it would fall off.

''No charge. Have a good day, Miss Fabray. Crack that case wide open!''

Finn grinned as he clutched the trolley and began to move off. Santana flailed and dropped her head back as he headed toward somebody else.

''Hey, where the holy eff is _my_ favourite? Hot naked chick spread open on…''

''_Santana_!''

''…wheat. What? I was kidding. Sort of. About the wheat part, I mean – who the hell would want to screw on wheat bread? Weirdos, that's who.''

Santana knew she was pushing Quinn to her limit – she could tell because she was trying to knead her temples in slow circles to bypass the approaching headache brought on by sheer frustration. Oh yeah, if annoying the crap out of someone was an Olympic sport then Santana would have won gold freaking a million times over by now.

''Just – stop saying words. I'm going to have lunch on the roof, if anyone needs me.''

Quinn stood up and grabbed her lunch and the bottle of water that had been sat on the desk, as well as her phone.

''Don't jump.''

Santana ignored the withering look she received before Quinn moved off. Her headache began to recede with every step she took away from Santana and the office. Quinn liked it on the roof – the view was beautiful and it was peaceful up there, she came up to think a lot. It was a time out in a life full of heinous crime, danger and the constant rush.

''Penny for your thoughts.''

Quinn spun around but instantly calmed when she saw that Superwoman was standing there, smiling lightly.

''I'm sorry, Quinn – I didn't mean to startle you. How are you?''

The blonde smiled and sat on the edge where she usually sat.

''I'm not so bad, thank you. What about you? Averted any disasters today?''

Superwoman shrugged with a smirk.

''Eh, helped a little old lady across the street.''

''Why, my hero.''

Superwoman laughed and moved toward the ledge to stand next to it, not too far from Quinn herself. The blonde felt at peace when she was near – she felt safe and content and like they were in their own little bubble. She watched as Superwoman looked down, seemingly contemplating something.

''Why me?''

''Hmm?''

The masked heroine looked back up and Quinn desperately tried to see past the mask.

''Why do you come to me? Share what's now just memory inside of you? Don't get me wrong, I don't want you to stop but – just, why chose me?''

Quinn knew all about Krypton and its destruction, knew that Superwoman very much missed her home planet and her people. She knew that Supergirl was the only family she had left – they were cousins and as far as they were aware, no one else had survived. So they took care of the people here as best they could – using their phenomenal abilities to do so. Quinn couldn't imagine it – the weight of the loss of an entire planet must have been horrified to live with every single day.

''I trust you.''

She answered simply, like it should be obvious. Superwoman reached out to tuck an errand strand of blonde hair out of Quinn's face, and the journalist let her – turning slightly into Superwoman's hand as her own moved up and wrapped around her wrist to keep it there.

''Then show me who you are.''

She breathed.

''I want to see who you really are. The woman behind the mask…I don't even know your name. I know so much about you but…I still have to call you Superwoman like everybody else. You've saved my life, you tell me what's in your heart…why can't you show me who you are?''

Santana's heart squeezed hard in her chest – it would be _so_ easy. So easy to say the words – so easy to take off the mask. So easy to indulge and take pleasure in and take solace in and _love_. Then why was it that she just couldn't? She told herself that Quinn would be horrified – she told herself that it would put her _and_ Kara in incredible danger – she told herself many lies to keep her from revealing the truth. Because of course, the truth would set her free and she would have no choice but to let herself love and be happy – and that just couldn't happen.

She had lost too much already. Brittney may have been able to love again but her own heart was too heavy and too broken for that. But she couldn't help but just seeing…just leaning forward and connecting her lips with the blonde's – and they were so soft and warm. There was a power there – a force – that she had never experienced before. It was stronger than Kryptonite – and even more dangerous to her. But she couldn't stop. Her world sank into bliss – into long longed for peace and content – the pain stopped, the grief and the sorrow and the guilt and loneliness stopped.

Quinn's lips were like life itself. They healed and radiated warmth and beauty. And it felt like their mouths were made for one another – because their slow, intimate and loving kiss turned deeper and deeper still – until their tongues met and it was like a whole new level of phenomena. Humans here had a saying involving fireworks – Santana definitely saw them and felt them sweep through her.

For the first time in her life Santana felt time pause. She didn't have to carry the weight and the expectation – she was free.

The kiss came to an organic end and instantly both missed the contact – the feeling and intensity and electric and heat. Santana placed on more solitary kiss on those perfect lips before sighing softly as she stepped back.

''Wait…''

Superwoman paused, hovering above the floor of the rooftop.

''You already know who I am, Quinn.''

With that she flew away leaving the blonde journalist alone. Quinn didn't know what to make of that for long minutes. The wind flowed gently and the distant sounds of the city were barely noticed as her entire self tried to process what had happened. She had never experienced a kiss like that one – not even from her daughter's Dad. Not that they had actually had some massive romance, it had been short and sweet – more like two good friends indulging in the idea of being something more than they were. They had fit in every other aspect so they had tried that – it didn't work. They had remained friends until the day that he had been killed. She was still looking for his killer.

Hell, she was looking for a couple of killers.

XxX

''Umm…Miss Lopez?''

Blaine Anderson gulped fretfully as he shuffled as close as he dared to Santana's desk. The bullpen was quiet, most of the staff had gone home and he was heading out too – but first he had to face the dragon lady head on. He clutched a file to his chest as he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched for any signs of murderous movements.

''What is it, Bow Tie?''

She asked tiredly, still reading over some documents at her desk, feet propped up as she leaned back into her chair, head leant on one hand. Blaine shuffled a little closer and took a breath.

''I was doing some rearranging in the photography room, and I found an old roll of film behind some shelves? They weren't labelled so I developed them and uh – I thought you might be interested in them.''

Promptly he thrust out the file as she sighed and turned to glare at him.

''_Wow_, that was so interesting I might just write about it. Oh wait – I _didn't_ need to hear all that crap. Get away from me, don't you have some Broadway show-gay to suck up to. _Literally_?''

Blaine blushed porously at her crass remark – she obviously knew that he was dating musical theatre favourite Kurt Hummel. It wasn't surprising, she _was_ a journalist and although everyone was terrified of her and she was an outstanding bitch she was actually a pretty great one. There was also that she was somehow best friends with Brittney and Brittney was dating Rachel…Kurt's best friend. Rachel was also Quinn's friend.

''You're investigating that cop murder, right? David Karofsky? He's in some of these pictures. His partner was Sam Evans, he died too, with Sugar Motta – Quinn is still searching for the killer. They think that the same one killed Shelby Corcoran. That's uh…that's Rachel Berry's Mom. Anyways, I think the old photographer Jimmy took these before he left. They're old but maybe they'll be helpful.''

Santana gazed at him with a frown, but not an evil frown just a thoughtful frown. He offered out the file once more and she took it, just holding it as he walked out of the bullpen and into an elevator. Santana discarded what she had been reading and took the photographs out of the file that the Wonder Twin had given her.

The more she scanned through them the more she began to sit up and scowl. She got up and shoved the photos into her satchel before she took off.

XxX

Quinn smiled as she stepped out into the hallway and pulled her daughter's bedroom door until there was just a crack left open before she strode down the hallway and turned into the kitchen. It was always quiet when Kara went to bed; even though she was sleeping down the hall she somehow always missed her. But she knew that in the morning she would be full of energy once again and Quinn would be up with the birds and chasing after her to get her ready for the day.

When the doorbell rang she dusted off her hands after putting the last of everything in the dishwasher aside from the half glass of white wine she had set out. She made her way over to the door and peeked through the peephole before she unlocked and opened up her front door.

''Hey Puck.''

Detective Noah Puckerman gave her his classic smirk and wink as he leant in and placed a greeting kiss on her cheek before inching in. Quinn then looked at his partner – the guy gave her the creeps, she didn't like him and she didn't trust him.

''Sergeant Schuester.''

He just nodded and stepped in too and she turned around to give her attention to her friend rather than the older man.

''Kara in bed?''

''Yeah, I just put her down. Why, what's going on?''

Puck sighed and rubbed his head.

''We're moving on from Dave's case. There's…nothing. This guy is a freaking ghost. We got _nothing_.''

Quinn heard the frustration in Puck's voice and felt her own heart sink. The police were giving up – _again_. It's not that they weren't good at their jobs she was sure there was something else in play. She had it on very good authority that there were moles inside that were subverting justice and causing general mayhem. Sure this killer was good and left minimal traces for anyone to find, but mishaps had happened and clues had been looked over – Quinn had followed leads that the police had said were dead, for crying out loud.

It was all tied to the string of murders that had started with Shelby Corcoran – but everything just kept going around in circles. It was a mess.

Before she could answer there was another urgent knock on the door.

''Yo Stretch-marks, open up!''

''Oh, for the love of…''

Quinn went to the door again and yanked it open, glaring at Santana as she flailed.

''What're you doing here?''

Santana barrelled passed her but stalled as she saw the two cops standing around in the hallway. She gave Puck a small heads up as she wrapped her hand around Quinn's arm.

''Excuse us, lovers quarrel…''

''_What_ – hey!''

Santana yanked Quinn away from the two men despite her reluctance to go with her, and basically shoved her into the bedroom. Santana eased the door almost closed and glanced out of the little gap she had left to check on their position, before she turned to look at the irate blonde that had folded her arms across her chest and looked like she was about to rip her head off.

''I know who your killer is and I also know your secret…whoa, hey – I've had some pretty hardcore dreams about in your bedroom, Q – maybes we could…''

''_Santana_!''

''Oh, right. That picture on your desk – the one with you and that blond haired boy when you were little? I _know_ who that is. I also know that he's your Baby Daddy. Subtle, Q – having the kid picture out so no one would notice.''

Quinn looked away and shook her head.

''I don't know what you're talking about.''

''No, course you don't. The annoying photography kid that I can never remember the name of found these…''

She pulled the photos out of her satchel and passed them to Quinn.

''I checked on Jimmy Olson, he vanished without a trace – probably dead and buried somewhere. Look _hard_ at those photos – like, in the background.''

Quinn frowned as she scanned through them, really taking notice of everything around the frontward scenes that were displayed and taking note of the finer details.

''Oh my god…''

Santana nodded.

''I got hold of some documents from Karofsky's old cases; he was keeping a bunch of files in a storage unit outside the city. I just came from there. He and your Baby Daddy were investigating most of the cops they work with. _Including_ those two out there.''

''Not Puck…''

''No, they cleared Puck – but that weird shifty older guy? _Him_. I heard you tell Holly one time that Schuester had an affair with Shelby Corcoran, right? Rachel said their relationship got pretty iffy toward the end. He's in those pictures, Quinn – _with _that chump Finn Hudson. I checked – the retard only started working there _after_ the murder. He's watching _you_ – because somehow he knows that Sam Evans is your kids Papi, and they gotta figure that he shared information with you. Hudson is connected to some pretty heavy drug dudes, Quinn. And Schuester is a bought and paid for cop.''

Quinn shook, her mouth dropped open as she staggered back and sat numbly on the edge of her bed. It was all starting to pan out. Shelby must have seen or heard something that was going on and she was murdered for it. That would have been the end of it if it weren't for Sugar, who she knew had contacted Sam for some reason. He had told her that he was meeting her downtown and the next thing she knew they were dead.

All this time had passed and now David Karofsky was dead too. He _must_ have found undeniable proof, something that would pin Schuester and tie him to everything and to Finn. Now he was dead and Jimmy was dead and god – he was standing right outside in her apartment. Her _child_ was sleeping down the hall.

''Kara is here, Santana. Please help me.''

''I am helping you.''

Quinn shook her head and shook up, striding over to the other woman and kissing her soundly. Santana could _not_ be more surprised. So surprised that it actually took a minute to respond to it. Unlike earlier it was needy and aggressive - it was knowing.

''You may know my secret, but I know yours too.''

''H-how?''

Quinn stood right against Santana, hand still tangled in her hair with watery eyes and no small amount of fear running through her. She looked right into dark eyes and shrugged gently.

''You were right, before. I know _who_ you are. I think I would recognise you anywhere, it was just scared to admit it to myself because when I did…when I did I'd have no more excuses not to love you.''

The blonde had been scared this whole time? Just like she had? Santana had never entertained the idea that Quinn was afraid too – afraid to love and afraid to take a chance. Brittney had obviously seen it; she had this way about her that Santana didn't really have. Quinn had known in her heart and her cousin was right – she loved _her_ because she was one person, not two. No matter how hard she pretended and fought to separate Santana from Superwoman she couldn't, and Quinn loved her.

Stepping in here to see a murderer here had terrified her more than anything. Quinn had gotten herself into danger before. Santana had rescued her on more than one occasion because her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She had been trapped in a flooded basement, hit over the head with a tire iron – hell she had had a gun to her head _twice_. Yet this traitor that was stood in her home just feet away from her daughter seemed so much more sinister. And it had made her realise that there were worse things than falling in love and letting someone in again. Things like never having that opportunity again.

It was time to stop running away from what she felt.

Santana nodded and kissed Quinn softly once more before stepping away from her.

''Stay here.''

After that was gone and for about one fifth of a second she thought about staying in the bedroom – but then since when did she ever follow advice? This was her freaking daughter at stake she wasn't about to hide in her bedroom.

She sneaked out and went along the hall and thankfully Kara was still fast asleep in her bed. She scooped her up, relieved that her daughter was a heavy sleeper and held her close to her chest. When she went out again she inched along her hallway, heart thundering against her chest. Everything was silent. Puck was on the floor bleeding from a knife wound in the gut and frantically she looked around, but then saw Schuester unconscious and tied to the railings of her balcony.

Santana was nowhere in sight.

20 minutes later and a flood of paramedics and police were in her apartment and this time Kara _did_ wake up and was sniffling in her arms as she rocked her. She told them everything that had been uncovered and the police took the photos and said that someone had dropped off a stack of paperwork in a box that had belonged to Sam and Karofsky – they had also been delivered Finn Hudson, taped up together with 3 of his drug buddies in crime scene tape curtsey of Supergirl and Superwoman.

Eventually everyone left and Quinn just sat holding her daughter in silence for a while, rocking her gently. Finally Sam's killer had been caught and the whole mess of murders was uncovered. Hopefully the documents and the photos and having Schuester and Hudson in custody would generate any more information that they had on the drug operation and any more dirty cops.

It was all over.

''So, I guess you won't be getting anymore free lunches at the office.''

The blonde started but relaxed as she looked over to the doors leading to the balcony as Superwoman came to a soft land. Like she had always wanted to she lifted a hand up and pulled off the mask – revealing herself but making no move to step inside.

''Is she okay?''

Santana asked softly, indicating the sleeping child in Quinn's arms. Quinn glanced down at her daughter and held her that bit closer.

''Yeah, she's fine. Thank you.''

''For the record, I never thought she looked like a lizard.''

''Why do you say things like that? Act the way you do? When you obviously care _so_ much about people, why do you push them away?''

Santana glanced down for a moment as she rolled her shoulders and took in a slow, thoughtful breath.

''I have to remind myself sometimes that I'm _not_ human, Q. Do you get that? I'm an alien. It's just; Earth is the only home I've ever really known. A part of me – a big part, just wants to be normal like the rest of you. But I'm not. And who wants _Superwoman_ to really be anything other than somebody that swoops in and saves the day and swoops out again? They don't want to know that I hurt all the time, or that it's so lonely being here without anybody.

I mean, I know I have Bri…uh, Supergirl and all but it's not the same. I love my human parents but I still have to know that out there – _way _out there, everything that I came from got destroyed. And if these people found out that _I'm_ the girl behind the mask – what then? I get prodded and poked by some weird government doctor's that don't care I'm not here to hurt anybody? I get hunted by every goddamn evil genius?

Do you know how dangerous it is to be around me? I'm terrified that I'll put you at risk. _Anyone_ I care about at risk. Do you think I could stand here and explain to that little girl that knowing me – _loving_ me, got her Mommy killed?

Quinn if anything happened to you because of me I think I would die. Superwoman may be the hero but me? I'm just weak and afraid, and just a little bit selfish that I want you anyway. I lost my entire home; I don't want to lose you too.

I'm not as strong as my cousin – so I push people away.''

Quinn's heart felt like it was literally breaking at the emotion pouring out of the other woman. On one hand she had experienced the superhero talk on such a level but hearing it come freely from Santana? It actually made it a thousand times more heartbreaking. She was so lost, and so hurt and desperately trying to cling onto something because the one thing that she was most afraid of was losing more than she had.

And who could blame her? Really, who could fail to understand that fear and the consequent attempts to force everyone and anyone away from her? Everyone here had their planet – their home, their people – their families. Earth wasn't perfect and the human race on mass needed a _lot_ of work because right now they were still just cavemen running around killing, raping and destroying the land. They had the potential to be better though – to be _more_. They still had that chance but not Superwoman. Not Supergirl – not Santana or Brittney…because once she accepted one the easy conclusion was that the perky, lovely girl at the office was actually Supergirl.

Quinn knew for a fact that she was involved with Rachel Berry – she had spent plenty of social occasions with them. This was obviously where the two cousins differed.

The blonde eased Kara down into the crook of the couch, head placed gently on a pillow and she covered her up and made sure that she was secure and comfy and fast asleep. After that she stood upright and walked across the space to the woman who had hung her head, fingers fiddling with the mask that she wore. Quinn put her hand to the side of her face gently to get her to look back up.

''Everything you just said is so _very_ human, Santana. You don't think its natural to feel what you do? You feel that way everyday but you still go out there and do what you do. You still _live_ and you still push for truth and decency and _good_.

People _are_ fickle, I get that – we're not a perfect species. Maybe a lot of them would rather not know who breathes behind this mask or think of her as someone that feels the exact same way that they do. But _I_ want to know her. And I think that she's one of the bravest people I've ever known – braver still than Superwoman. And she deserves to love and to be loved, and to feel something other than the weight of everything she just said.

No one is 100% strong. No one is 100% sure or unafraid. That's what being human is, living with that doubt and that pain anyway. We find out to be strong in our own ways and you just _are_. Just because you fear and you grieve does not mean you're weak – it means the opposite.

And as for me – I'm scared too. I worry that I'll finally get myself into something that I can't get out of and someone will be telling my little girl that I'm not coming home ever again. But at least she'd know that I was trying my best to get to the truth. I do it for her, Santana. And you know as well as I do that every one is in some kind of danger every single day anyway.

It's a little bit selfish of me to do this when I have a daughter. It's a little bit selfish of me to love you back. But the world wouldn't work without a little bit of that happening, and I would rather die for love and truth and honesty than sit back and pretend I don't see the opposites. I would rather fall in love with someone like you who feels the same things as me – than someone like Superwoman. She's the mask – I want _you_. The snarky, obnoxious woman that drives me insane everyday – because she's beautiful in all her perfect imperfection.

And I think you know that the _only_ way to make the suffering better is to face the fear. To live and love in honour of the kin that you lost, like I would want Kara to do if she came to the same fate.''

With eyes full of tears Santana looked across the to sleeping child, oblivious and content and _safe_. Probably dreaming about puppies or rainbows or unicorns.

''You would?''

Quinn brushed a lone tear that slipped down the Santana's face away with her thumb as she nodded.

''I'm her Mother, that's _all_ I would want.''

Santana let out a rushed breath feeling as though she had been holding it her whole life. Brittney had spent so long trying to get through to her but she had never understood it quite like this before. Even her parents – the only other humans to be entrusted with her secret, hadn't been quite able to tap this particular vein.

This apparently was for Quinn alone. To pull together the perspective that Santana had never come close to before – perhaps essentially giving her the permission that she needed as a parent. Saying those words like she had never heard them spoken before and giving her an inside into her birth parents' wishes for her – to live and to love. Why else would she have been saved? Why else would they have gone to such great lengths to spare her from the same destructive fate? They had obviously had faith in her to become a loving person, to understand that though she may always grieve their loss and the loss of a home she never really had chance to know, she wasn't responsible and they never expected her to carry it on her shoulders. It had never been her fault.

Brittney was smarter than her and she had understood this long before now, Santana realised that this was what she had been saying all along. That _they_ needed to live and it was okay to do that – they didn't need to kill themselves too.

It was like a storm in her mind and it freed her so quickly that she actually felt – for the first time in her life – what humans would call being dizzy or faint. The only thing she knew what to do – that her instincts told her to do – was reach forward and pull Quinn's face to hers and kiss her so profoundly like she wanted to every single time she saw her.

So she did and it was like a clash of roaring tides hitting one another – furiously deep and pouring every ounce of withheld feeling and choked down emotion – of the deepest love that had been beaten down out of sight. It all came pouring out of her in the clash of teeth and tongue – in the tears that slipped out of her eyes, in the way she held the blonde so close and tight against her showing her need and her want. And if not for the fact that Quinn gripped her just as tightly, matched her explosion of feeling with encouragement and fervour or made these perfect noises in the back of her throat Santana would have been worried that it was too much for her – but it wasn't.

Talk about epiphanies.

Gradually, after long minutes of this tidal wave through the opened floodgates they began to slow, easing and easing until finally it came to a natural end. Santana technically wasn't breathless but in a way she was, and she was panting just as hard as Quinn. And for a moment they just stood close in their embrace with their breath mingling together as their foreheads rested against one another.

When she looked into Quinn's eyes she could see so much reflected back. She could see the level of compassion and understanding and trust – and it was outstanding. She saw _her_ – and it didn't matter that she had cried and admitted some kind of weakness because Quinn was telling her she had that right.

''I love you.''

Quinn smiled at the hushed but sincere words, sliding her finger across the soft cheekbone beneath it where her hand still rested on the side of the other woman's face.

''I love you too.''

The next kiss they shared was slow and soft and lingering.

''Stay.''

Santana nodded at the whispered request never feeling as exhausted as she did right now. She felt like her power had been drained out of her and sucked into a vacuum, but still somehow she felt stronger – stronger because of the breakthrough, stronger because of Quinn. She felt safe here surrounded by everything that the blonde was.

The reporter went to pick up her daughter to return her to her bed but the unmasked hero asked if she could do it instead, and she lifted her easily and it felt so good to have her in her arms like this. Kara was an inquisitive, happy and vivacious little girl that enjoyed visiting Quinn at work – and that's about as much interaction as Santana had with her. Quinn didn't know it, but she always gave Kara a treat or let her do something that only adults got to do, or gave her something cool – and with a wink they would keep it between themselves. She was still a lot more candid with her than most adults would be with a 4 year old but that only seemed to intrigue and even endear the little blonde to her. She was hopelessly in love with her too – she'd do anything for her – it was nice to admit that.

Santana tucked her in and let Quinn lead her along the hall and back into her bedroom. She kissed her face in single, fleeting kisses as she helped her out of the now iconic red and blue costume – and briefly Santana was just stood there in her underwear until the blonde pulled a baseball t-shirt over her head that was a couple of sizes too big and rather deftly managed to relieve her for her bra without making a single sexual advance. Right now was not the time for that.

And once Quinn was changed too she walked Santana to her bed and helped her shuffle in before she eased in behind her. Not once in her life – not one single time had she been held like this. Quinn moved up behind her, effectively spooning her – wrapping her arm and her leg around her and holding her so comfortingly and so lovingly.

Because she knew that even heroes had the right to feel, and cry and grieve and bleed and be just a little bit broken and weak and needed someone to look after them too.


	10. Leave 3

**A/N - Apologies for the gap**

XxXxX

''How long does it take?''

''The box says 3 minutes.''

Quinn groaned and flopped forward so that her head was between her knees. She was perched on the bathtub in Rachel Berry's bathroom, anxiously awaiting the results of the pregnancy test that she had taken.

She knew, but she couldn't logically know until she had seen it for herself. That's what Rachel had told her when she had blurted out this whole messed up situation at Finn's party yesterday. Because Sam had been hovering by her, there had been an obnoxious amount of people there, and Santana had been pointedly ignoring her the whole time. It had all just been far too much.

Mary Evans, the bane of all Mother-in-laws, had joked about Quinn being pregnant, and not so subtly asked when her next grandbaby was to be expected. So of course the night before Finn's birthday party Sam had suggested that maybe they should think about it. Oh the evil twist of cruel irony. He had stated it logically, differently than he had ever reacted about their daughter's – differently to the times he used to talk about having kids together one day, back when they had still been very much in love and she hadn't been some adulterous heathen.

Sam had said maybe they should consider it because it might help the way things were between them. Like having a baby would be the cure for all – meaning that he knew exactly what was going on between them, and that was his solution. Sam wasn't the kind of man to suggest having a child for any other reason than because he wanted one, which was an indication about how he thought their marriage was right now.

Quinn had told him she didn't want to talk about it and he hadn't brought it up since.

She had tried to talk to Santana, but the Latina had given her a warning look to stay away, so she had. Quinn supposed that she did deserve her space, and after all she did have to sit through that party watching her be a family. She could see the jealousy in her eyes all the way across Finn's garden, she could see how deeply it cut into her to watch them be the perfect little family unit – smiling and behaving like everything was hunky dory.

So when she had found herself in the kitchen that had been surprisingly empty save for Rachel, who was miserable because her fiancé wasn't due back to town for another week because she was touring with a musical, she had blurted out the whole truth.

She had dissolved into fits of tears and Rachel had just been her friend and listened, wrapping her arms around her and herding her off to a more secluded room where it wasn't likely anyone could overhear.

''How long has it been?''

Quinn mewled rather pathetically. It felt like a freaking lifetime.

''A minute.''

She huffed at the response and sighed as she pulled herself back up. Briefly, she looked around the spacious bathroom, drumming her fingers on the side of the tub before she sighed again and looked at Rachel.

''When does Tina get home, next week?''

Rachel sighed too but nodded, she was sat across from her on the lid of the toilet, her elbow perched on her knee so her hand could prop up her head.

Rachel was the second person she had met in this little self-made family that had developed over the years. Santana had been the first of course, they had attended Pace University together and met during orientation – and not much longer after that the Latina had introduced her to Rachel, who was a freshman at NYADA. They had been friends from high school – a fact that Santana pretended to be reluctant to admit, claiming that she was only friends with Rachel because she felt sorry for her extreme looser-hood. Nothing could be further from the truth, though.

Anyway, they were close. Three girls new to New York? Yeah, they had bonded very quickly – it didn't hurt that they all shared their sexuality in common. Kurt Hummel had been their token boy, but he was kind of like a girl given how damn camp he was. He was another friend from their school and though he hadn't gotten into college with Rachel, he had gotten into Tisch instead. That was great school too, and so they made fast friends, having the creative arts and some kind of LGBT about them.

Tina Cohen-Chang had come into the 'family' the next year, when she began at AMDA. She had been introduced via freshman filmmaker Artie Abrams, that had met Brittney who had been helping him out with a music video project of his. Brittney and Santana had been together at the time, and the blonde was a dancer at Julliard because she was just that good, and that's how they all met Mike Chang too.

It was all so odd how they all just came together; it was like they were somehow supposed to be this little hub of friendship. Quinn had technically met Sam via Rachel's cousin, Noah Puckerman – who had known him and Finn because they roomed together. Sam was part of their band but was studying at community college too.

When you added Mercedes Jones, Blaine Anderson, Sugar Motta and Lauren Zizes into the mix – all of who had been freshman's that knew either Tina, Artie or Finn, then you had their little group. Of course they had other friends and such, but this was the core group – the little family. Or really, The Family, because Artie liked to joke that they were like the mob, just made up of different races and sexualities.

There were three 'in breeder' couples. Of course her and Sam were one, the next one to happen was Brittney and Mike, who had gotten together just around the time that Quinn was pregnant with Carly. And then three years ago, coincidently when she was at the end of her pregnancy with Isabelle, Rachel and Tina had finally done something about their not so secret love for each other.

Finn was married to Sugar, but they weren't classed as in breeders because Finn had 'brought in' Sugar when they started dating, so they escaped Artie's lovely label for the rest of them. Anyway, it did occur to Quinn momentarily that every time she got pregnant a couple was formed. Weird.

''Next Friday. They're right across in Oregon now. Worst six weeks – ever.''

Quinn chuckled lightly at Rachel's miserable pout. She had missed Tina being around, obviously not as much as Rachel – but right now she was actually a little bit thankful that she wasn't here. Quinn didn't think she could handle anyone else knowing her dirty little secret right now. Not until she wrapped her head around it herself. But she knew that when all of this came out then their group would definitely change somehow – maybe not in a huge way, but definitely somehow.

''Just think forward, Rachel. A month after she gets home and you'll be getting married.''

That perked Rachel up and she grunted happily and smiled, wiggling on the toilet seat. The 'event' was all set, the whole thing had been planned out and things were very organised. It was news, two lesbian Broadway stars getting married? Yeah, it had kind of caught the attention of a lot of people. But the ceremony itself was actually going to be relatively small. Relatively small for Rachel Berry, that was.

Obviously they were all going, Rachel's parents and a handful of family members were attending. Tina's sister and brother were going but her parents had refused, which sucked but it wasn't about to stop her from getting married. There were some friends, and some co-stars from the stage; a couple of notable names and that were about it. Not the masses that Tina had been expecting Rachel to come up with, she had been relieved. Hell, they had all been relieved.

''Although, you may have to replace me as a bridesmaid, considering.''

Quinn added pitifully. Rachel scoffed.

''No way. I'm not trading you; we can have your dress altered accordingly at the time. You're one of my best friends, Quinn. None of this changes that, or the fact that you've been there since freshman year, helping me through all my drama – telling me to be honest about my feelings for Tina in the first place. So no, you're still a bridesmaid, don't think this is an excuse to get out of it.''

Okay it was hard to feel crappy when Rachel said things like that, even if it only briefly lifted her spirits. Underneath Rachel's craziness that could sometimes get the better of her, was that – the real Rachel that came through for everyone when they needed her, that was her underlying essence and why people just ended up loving her.

She hadn't judged her, she hadn't spoken a word of admonishment or disapproval or disappointment. Rachel had held her, let her cry and let her talk. She had told her that first things being first, they had to make sure that she was pregnant. So here they were – making sure she were pregnant.

Rachel hadn't known which was the best test, so she had bought the 10 that the store around the corner had to offer. She had stated that lesbians didn't have to deal with that kind of crap so she thought it wise to purchase them all – but the clerk had given her a curious look. She didn't care in the slightest.

The timer that Rachel held in her other hand pinged, and immediately Quinn paled. She paled and didn't move and stared right at the brunette, fingers gripping the tub.

''Do you want me to look?''

Quinn nodded quickly and Rachel stood up and walked over to the sink, she picked up the little stick that the blonde had peed on because well, who the hell was thinking about that right now – and looked at the result.

''It's positive, Quinn. You were right.''

Not that there was much chance she was going to be wrong, but still. The reality of having a test say she was right set in and hazel green eyes quickly filled up with tears and a hand moved to clamp over her mouth.

Rachel sighed sympathetically as she knelt down in front of her and ran her hands through blonde hair before she leant forward and placed a kiss on Quinn's forehead before pulling her down so she could rest her head on her shoulder.

''We could do another test?''

She suggested weakly, knowing it wouldn't make any kind of difference.

''I can't…I don't…I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do?''

Rachel pulled Quinn's head back again and started to wipe away her tears.

''Just breathe, for starters. And I think…I think deep down, you know what you have to do.''

Quinn sniffed and looked right at Rachel, the truth of the situation passing between them. She did know what she had to do, and it sucked. But she had to; it was the only way that any of this was going to resolve itself.

''I guess I deserve this.''

Rachel shook her head immediately.

''No, you don't. You've made some mistakes, okay? You're human, Quinn. There may have been a different way to handle this, but it doesn't mean that you're a bad person, or you intentionally set out to hurt anybody. You were hurting too – and you fell in love.''

''She's going to hate me, Rachel. This will kill her.''

Rachel sighed and swallowed, wiping some more tears away before she cupped Quinn's face and got her to look at her again when her gaze dropped to the floor.

''If she loves you like I think she does, then she'll come through for you. She'll know that you need her, just as much as she needs you. Right now though, you need to take care of yourself – because there is a baby to think about now.''

The brunette didn't actually need to see Santana with Quinn to understand what was between them, somehow it just kind of made sense. It had been right in front of her, and she had seen it already, but she hadn't known. But it did make sense, and she hoped that eventually things would work out.

But the most important thing right now really was this baby that was now in the middle of everything. And knowing Quinn like she did, she would but it and her daughter's first. This actually might be the very thing that gave her the strength to do what she needed to do; because if there was just one thing Quinn valued most in life it was her children. She was such an amazing Mother.

''Is it wrong that even though I'm about to tear apart 4 people's lives, that I'm happy about this?''

Rachel smiled and shook her head.

''No, of course it's not. You are a wonderful Mom, Quinn.''

''Don't say that. If it were true then I wouldn't have messed up like this. They're going to hurt because of me, and it's my job to protect them from that. I'm a crappy Mother.''

''Hey. Don't – okay? When the time comes, if I can be just half as good as you, I'd take that to the bank. You make it look so easy, Quinn. They'll be okay because you'll make sure they're okay. They have a Mom and a Dad that love them, and won't let anything get in the way of them being happy. And at least maybe you have a shot at not turning out like Santana's parents, because that is just…brutal.''

Quinn looked up quickly at Rachel's sad grimace as she mentioned what Santana herself had. Rachel had been there, she had seen it and from the look on her face Quinn could tell that there was a lot that Santana couldn't verbalise about it.

If she could avoid that, if she could make her daughter's understand that they hadn't done anything wrong and that they were loved just as much, and they didn't see their parents fighting – maybe it really would be okay. Maybe they could do this. Because she'd do anything for them, she really would. She knew Sam felt the same way too.

They could do this – they had to do this.

''It was really that bad?''

''Whatever she's managed to tell you? It's about 50 times worse than that.''

God, no wonder Santana thought she wasn't worthy of anything. Its not like Quinn's parents had been saints but in relation to the Lopez's, it was kind of feeling like they were.

''Quinn, whatever happens you always have somewhere to come – you can stay here, okay?''

''Thank you, Rachel.''

''No problem. I love you.''

''I know, I love you too.''

XxXxX

Things had turned out quite differently than she had anticipated. Santana had actually been a happy little girl – full of merriment and sweetness and sunshine. She hadn't been mean or sarcastic or guarded of her feelings. She had enjoyed life – lollipops in the sun, her Papi reading her bedtime stories, playing dress up with her siblings and baking with her Mami. She had adored them so much that of course it had shattered her whole tiny little heart when she had found out it was a lie.

That realisation had been sudden and hard hitting, when she had caught her Papi fucking the maid over his desk at the tender age at 6. From there she had figured certain things out – how cold they were to one another when their children weren't looking, how her Mami acted around other men – even her teachers. How they had slowly but surely used her as a pawn in their war.

Naturally, she vowed not to be anything like them, assumed that love was a pure and utter myth, and to avoid being hurt she should make herself into a bitch. In her mind, it was better to dish it out than to take it. Gone was the sunshine girl and there appeared the girl full of rage and hurt and raw emotion that she could barely contain. There appeared the bully and the evil cheerleader with little empathy and fewer morals – the girl that kept people at arms length. She watched her happy life disappear around her as her parents engaged in long years of the most gruelling, cruellest and spiteful behaviour. All of her siblings had been shoved into the middle of it, but particularly her. She thought she had done something wrong, taken all their sins unto herself.

Maybe it had broken her – maybe that was why she never got what she was searching for. Sex was her weakness and she had torn her way through too many girls to even count, stopping briefly every now and then to try her hand at a relationship. She always fucked it up somehow though – pushed too hard and withdrew too much. She ran hot and cold to the extreme, desperately wanting that love and connection but believing she wasn't worthy or it wouldn't be real.

And now she was kind of just like her parents, so it was somewhat mortifying/satisfying to know that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Her hero hadn't actually been the latest pop star or hot actress of the week. It had been – and still was – Rita Moreno. Santana had secretly been obsessed with her like Rachel had been obsessed with Barbara Streisand. See, Rita Moreno was not only the 3rd person to win the 4 awards required for an EGOT, and the second woman, but she was the first Hispanic. West Side Story was like crack to Santana and she was pretty much all over anything Rita got herself into.

She had met her once and she had practically died on the spot. Then she practically died again because Rita liked her music. Seriously, winning a Grammy for her music was nothing compared to getting the thumbs up from Rita Moreno.

Santana had always wanted to be like her and somewhere along the trying to get there she had become somebody that slept with her godchildren's Mommy instead. She became somebody that ruined her relationships – because seriously, Brittney? The most loveable and easy to be with and affectionate girl on the planet? She'd even managed to screw that up.

Meeting Quinn at Pace was just one of those damn twists of fate and now here they were. The thing was Santana couldn't pull away even though maybe she should have. She wanted to be with Quinn – she wanted to be able to love her for all the world to see.

''So, you know huh? She told you?''

''Yes, she told me. By the way – were you aware that it's 3am?''

Rachel sleepily asked as she looked at her best friend – the sister she had never had – through squinty eyes that had been forced awake due to a persistent ringing of her doorbell – then persistent banging on her door followed by persistent calls and chants that were slurred and some sort of weird 'Spanglish' concoction. So she had known very quickly that Santana was drunk.

''You had a show tonight – you're always wired after a show.''

Santana dismissed as she pushed passed Rachel and through into the apartment.

''Apart from those times when it's draining and I barely make it back before falling asleep.''

Rachel reminded as she pushed her door closed. Well, at least she had gotten a little bit of sleep. She had done her show, it had been spectacular – signed some autographs, taken a few pictures and chatted for a few minutes – come home, had a light snack and half a glass of wine – engaged in some pretty damn good phone sex with her absent fiancé and then fell into a fucking coma. A really glorious fucking coma – that was until she got awoken and of course it was about the lesbian drama that was transpiring.

The brunette had been waiting for Santana to come to her because she knew she would eventually. Eventually she would have anyway whether Quinn had done it first or not. Anyways, Rachel knew she was going to be awake for a little while longer so she shuffled toward the kitchen where she found Santana sat on a stool and haphazardly slumped over the island.

''Coffee?''

''Got anything stronger?''

''I have a baseball bat I could hit you with, does that count?''

''No it has to be liquor.''

Santana scowled across at her like a grumpy puppy. Rachel sighed again and rolled her eyes.

''Fine, but you have to drink some coffee too. You smell like a brewery Santana, where've you been?''

The Latina shrugged and made a soft humming noise in the back of her throat.

''Out partying with Britt-Britt – Mike, Kurt and his Wonder Twin, Sugar and Puck all came too. I had that lounge gig tonight.''

''How'd it go?''

''Like it always does when I do a gig – flawlessly.''

Rachel simply nodded as she went about putting the coffee on before she ducked down to glance into the liquor cupboard. She reached in and grabbed some Irish cream and after a minute or two had poured out two – because to hell if she wasn't having some now that she was awake. Santana lifted her glass and cleared her throat.

''To becoming your Father – man whore extraordinaire.''

The Broadway actress sighed softly and tipped her head in empathy.

''Santana…''

The Latina pointed a finger at her.

''Don't say I'm not like him.''

''You're not.''

Santana huffed.

''I caught the bastard fucking the maid over his desk when I was 6 and lost count of how many women I caught him with after that until they got divorced at graduation. And you just know that my Mom was banging half our teachers. For christ sake I'm just like them. The only thing that the Lopez family knows how to do perfectly is fuck up families.''

Rachel reached across the island and grabbed the irate woman's face and force her to look at her. She had been there – she couldn't count how many times Santana had cried and yelled and thrown something because she had seen what she wasn't ever supposed to see. She had known things about her parents – the parents that had gone from wonderful to immoral in the blink of an eye. The parents that didn't care about fighting in front of their daughter – burdening her with knowledge and guilt and blame. Rachel had lost count of how many nights Santana had spent at her house because she just didn't – couldn't – go home to that.

''You have to tell her the truth, Santana. You have to let her in. You're not like them; you're a good person. And yeah this is a mess but if you really love her, if you say that you can be everything for her – then do it. She needs to know, and you need to let yourself be happy. It took Brittney away from you, don't let it take Quinn.''

It was the last part that broke Santana and made her really cry – because it had been the thing that had stolen Brittney away from her. It's what slipped in and killed any chance of a successful relationship that she wanted. And she had wanted Brittney – so much, she had loved her and it was so easy to see a long and happy future with her. Brittney had been there completely willing and loving and Santana had done what she had always done when she realised just how serious something was. She had sabotaged it and broken not only Brittney's heart but her own. Now the other girl was married and yeah they were great friends but it had taken some time to make that happen.

''I don't want to lose her – but I don't exactly have her, do I? I know it's complicated but why can't she…why is it so…''

''Say it.''

''Why can't she just fucking be with me? Why am I never good enough? I mean I know I pushed Brittney away and everything but…I just feel like I'm so fucking damaged that I'm not worth it.''

Rachel moved around the island and straight to Santana who was already a weepy kind of drunk but add to that the stress and the emotion and all the years of actually believing that shit in her head and a breakdown was inevitable. So she held her tight and she rubbed her back and whispered that it would be okay while she hoped that it really would be. She hoped that all of this mess would get sorted out and her friends would get the happiness they deserved.

''I know she wants to leave him – I'm just not sure if she ever will. And it hurts, but I love her so much that I won't walk away. And I hate myself for hoping that she'll go through with it, because I know how it feels when your family falls apart.''

Rachel didn't know what was happening at this point, Quinn had been here too nights ago and there was no official word yet on whether she had made any concrete decision one way or the other regarding either Sam or Santana. She didn't know what to do, whether Quinn had decided to stay with Sam and was thinking how to let Santana down, or whether she was getting up the nerve to have the talk with her husband. Rachel certainly didn't envy her position. But it was difficult for her because Santana was in so much pain.

But then the next few minutes became like a series of events that she could only watch and do nothing about. Santana sniffed and looked up and zeroed in on the stupid plastic grocery bag that she had stupidly left sitting on her damn kitchen island.

''Rach, why do you have a shit ton of pregnancy tests? Are you having a baby?''

Rachel panicked and spluttered guiltily and Santana eyed her suspiciously.

''Uh…''

''Is Tina having a baby?''

''Uh…''

Rachel couldn't get her brain to engage or to get the expression off of her damn face. She was an actress damnit why was it so hard right now? Santana looked right at her for a moment and instantly Rachel knew that she knew.

''Oh.''

''Santana…''

Santana held up a hand.

''N-no I…it's fine. I'm fine. Whatever. I gots to go.''

''Santana don't, stay and talk to me about this.''

Santana was already snapping the self-locking bolts at the door back so she could leave.

''I uh…no I gotta get home…got another show tomorrow.''

Rachel cursed herself and shut the door when Santana practically ran out of it – there was no way she would've been able to stop her but she felt shitty that she couldn't. That was probably not the way that Quinn had envisioned Santana finding out that she was pregnant. Now the Latina thought that there would be no hope whatsoever of being with her.

XxXxX

Santana didn't know exactly how she got to the house, but somehow she ended up there anyways. Banging on the door like she had Rachel's, in a state of pure…she didn't know, panic? Rage? Desperation? She felt pretty desperate.

She felt pretty out of control too, like something was being drained out of her and if she didn't get it back then she would die. Add to that the fact that she was still pretty damn drunk off her ass, and this was not her best night.

Finally the door opened, and she came face to face with the man that she both loved and resented. He looked so fucking boyishly charming and sweet standing there with a dishevelled and sleepily confused look that would have been comical at any other time. All his stupid perfect blonde hair was sticking up, and even though his face was still screwed up a little – eyes squinting because they were barely open – he still looked freaking cute.

Santana wanted to hate Sam, she really did, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so. But it didn't stop her from being as angry as shit at him.

''Santana, are you okay?''

The gruff but lethargic voice asked, snapping her back into reality. What caused her to reach out and give him a good shove – enough to make him step back a couple of steps – she didn't exactly know, it just felt like the thing to do.

''I hate you! In that I really don't because I can't…but I hate that. You have no idea how lucky you are. You're so god damn clueless, Evans. Do you know what I'd give to be in your place? Do you know what lengths I'd go to to make sure she's happy?''

''Santana…''

''No!''

Santana shoved him again, scowling and panting and never forgetting for a second that she was in their house.

''This is all a lie, she doesn't love you and you can't make her stay here. Please. I have no right to ask you but please, let her go Sam. I'll do anything. Anything.''

''Quinn already left me, Santana.''

Well fuck. She hadn't been expecting that. Apparently she had come here to beg for Quinn, because apparently she really was that desperate. She hadn't really been focusing on what poured out of her mouth but she certainly hadn't expected to hear that come out of his. It gave her pause, and she just stared at him in utter disorientation, not really knowing what to do now. She didn't even know what it meant, Quinn had left Sam but she hadn't said a freaking word to her.

''She sent the kids to my Mom's and she told me everything. She told me she didn't love me anymore, that she had been trying for the girls – and that she had fallen in love with you.''

Santana had the good grace to look extremely guilty. Sam sighed softly and ruffled a hand through his hair, it had been a long night and the last thing he had been expecting was for Santana to show up drunk and in a state of what looked like blind panic that Quinn was choosing him over her.

''I knew there was someone else, I didn't figure out it was you until the party. I may be dense but I do see things. But Quinn was trying so I did the same; I thought that was what she wanted. But I have no intention of making her stay with me when she loves you. And she has no intention of making me stay with her now she knows I feel the same way. Or I guess…I don't feel the same way.''

''Wait, what?''

He shrugged simply, a little sadly but also with no small amount of relief that they had finally put all their cards on the table.

''I'm not in love with her either anymore. It kinda sucks, and it still sucks that you two did what you did, but I get it. Tonight we talked like we used to talk, and it was really cool. We laughed again and connected again – but it was a friendship. She's not mine anymore, she's yours.''

Santana really didn't know whether she wanted to barf, scream, cry or just plain old pass out. Her mind actually just broke, like it had fallen out of her head. Quinn had told Sam everything and he was…okay? He was being reasonable and understanding, and god he even felt the same way. He had been playing along the same as Quinn because that's just how much they loved their children.

She felt dizzy. Dizzy and hot and like she had just had a huge weigh both lifted off of her and dropped down onto her. She staggered back and practically fell into the lone seat by the door next to the cabinet. Her heart struggled to function properly in her chest and all of a sudden she had to really concentrate on how to breathe, body tilting forward a little.

This was all she had wanted for so long, it's all that she hoped for and thought about and dreamed and breathed. she didn't even know if she was getting it but the thought of that she could be terrified her now. Could she keep her promise and be everything? Because being everything meant not being not being like her Father. It meant not copping out like she had with Brittney. It meant standing up to be the person Quinn needed her to be, because it wouldn't just be them, it was the kids too.

God, the girls. Sure they loved her now, she was just their cool Tia Santana - what would she be when they realised that she was the woman who had stolen their Mommy from their Daddy? What would she be when they had to live the reality of this whole mess? they would hate her, it would be awful and maybe Quinn would realise that it was just too hard.

''Santana, look - you know I love you and all, but I've never really known you. Not like Quinn, Rachel and Brittney do. But I know you enough. If Quinn is going to be with someone else - if another person is going to be involved in raising our kids - then I'm happy it's you. I'm happy that it'll be somebody that loves them, and that they love, than some stranger.''

She looked up at him, stared at his earnest face, and it made tears swell in her eyes. It was a feeling she couldn't describe to hear that from a man that she had betrayed, yet he still seemed to believe in her.

''And what if...what if I'm not good enough? What then?''

Sam sighed slowly and crouched in front of her. It was ridiculous how adorable he looked in the mixture of wise and sleepy. Part of her wished that this wasn't happening, because he was so amazing. Even in this moment he was being kind to her. How could she possibly top that?

''Do you love Quinn?''

''So much.''

''Then stop worrying so much. I know that all this is messed up, but I'm just as sure it'll work out fine. At least she and I have our friendship back. And the way she talked about you...you're good enough Santana. Everyone has always seen something in you that you won't let yourself see, I hope Quinn gets you to see it for yourself. You'll be fine. Besides, we're about to be family - it doesn't need to be conventional, maybe the unconventional kind is the best way.''

Maybe he was right. Maybe the haphazardness of family for them would be the very thing that made it would - distinguish it from the family she had grown up in. If Quinn and Sam were friends, like they used to be, then maybe this could all really work - somehow they could convey to their children that it would be the same, and not let them miss a second of love and security.

What they could do for their kids apart, were things that her parents could never do together. Santana would have easily have lived with this scenario than the one she had survived.

''I'm so sorry. I swear, Sam - I'm just...I'm so sorry. It should never have happened like this, and I at least have to take responsibility for that.''

She stated earnestly. Whether it was connected to the mess of unresolved issues in her gut or not, she was still an adult and she had still made a choice to have an affair with a married woman. She had still chosen to be deceitful and lie and look him in the eyes when she was doing it. For that she really was sorry. It always felt like you couldn't stop yourself but really, at the end of the day, you could always stop and put in the effort to do things the right way.

''I shouldn't have, but it's done so there's not much I can do about it now. It might take some time, but I will ask you to do something, same as I asked Quinn.''

''Name it.''

Santana nodded eagerly, ready to carry out this duty whatever it should be.

''I don't want anyone to know about the affair. When we tell everyone we're going to tell them that it wasn't working, not that Quinn cheated. If everyone knows things will be different, and if they know the girls will know, and I don't want that. It's my choice, not hers and not yours.''

It would be difficult to keep that a secret, she knew Quinn would find it hard because she would be compelled to be honest about it and not let anyone cast any blame Sam's way. She would feel compelled to do it anyway as some attempt to punish herself and apologies to him. It would mean that any move they made, they would have to wait for a certain amount of time - but maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. Maybe that would help them into fitting into a relationship as a real couple, without any of this, and simultaneously they could ease the girls into what was happening and let them adjust slowly to bits at a time.

Santana really did respect Sam, he was willing to let the blame go for the sake of his children. Willing to really work on moving forward, and not dwelling on what he couldn't change but putting effort in what could still be. He was a man apart, and that's exactly why Quinn had married him - it's what she had seen in him from the start, and it would be the saving grace of their friendship she thought. It would be nice to see them with that spark back, actually.

''Of course.''

Sam nodded tiredly, and awkwardly Santana stood, wavering a little but managing to keep her balance. She blinked, glancing around the entryway a moment before looking at him again. It would probably take some time before they didn't feel like this around one another.

''I should uh...go.''

He nodded, seeing her to the door but not saying anything as she hovered for a moment before making her way down the path. It seemed that she had told the cab she took to wait, and with a bigger sense of exhaustion she climbed into it and muttered her address.

It was a peculiar night. A peculiar few days and few months - maybe a peculiar lifetime. She had a lot of baggage, and she had been avoiding it for a long time. Now thought Santana was resolute in working through it because she didn't want to be like this anymore. She didn't want to avoid love she wanted to embrace it - she wanted to fight. Fight for Quinn, fight for a family - she wanted to fight for herself. It was time, she had been broken for far too long and she needed to put herself together and start living how she wanted to, not how she thought she was limited to.

XxXxX

She knew her apartment was occupied when she walked into it, the air was different and it smelt like Quinn. It felt familiar and it smelt more like home than anything ever had. It brought her comfort, but it also brought overwhelming fear that Quinn would tell her that they couldn't be together.

The Latina walked through into the living room, it was quiet so her footsteps were unmistakable so Quinn was already looking her way when she walked through the archway. The blonde was sitting in the loveseat near the window, lit by the lamp that was next to her.

''Hi.''

''Hi.''

''I uh...I let myself in, I didn't...I didn't want to disturb you after your set. You were amazing, Santana, like you always are.''

Santana's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the softly spoken praise, an almost sweetly shy compliment that would be offered by somebody you were only just getting to know. Quinn bashfully looked down for a moment, lifting from her seat as she rolled her tongue against her lips and cleared her throat. She looked back up at Santana after a moment, finding that the Latina had only moved to register her shock.

''You came?''

''Of course.''

Santana didn't say anything she simply swallowed and hovered where she stood, her eyes ripping away from Quinn's to gaze anywhere else as they began to sting with reality. She couldn't bare the tender tone in the blonde's voice – she couldn't stand to hear another 'I love you but I can't' type speech where she told her that she would find somebody that she could be with and all the rest of that bullshit. She had heard that speech too many times to count now.

''Are you here to end it?''

She whispered hoarsely, though it was barely a question rather than a knowing.

''Yes.''

Santana's head snapped up – the wave of emotion had swept her up now and she frowned at the blonde, eyes glistening and challenging and pleading.

''Don't. Quinn, please don't, not now...''

''Santana you don't understand...''

The brunette nodded as she took a few steps forward, desperate to get everything out all at once.

''I know you're pregnant - I don't care about that. Quinn I can be everything you need me to be, I can do all of this with you. I'll share everything with you, everything - just give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove to you, and to me, that I don't have to walk in anybody else's shadow, I'm starting to understand that now. No one has ever made me see that, no one has ever made me feel the things that you make me feel. I just...I love you so much, and I'll fight for this. Please don't give up now when we have the chance to be everything we want to be, that we can be - together.''

There was that desperation again, but it was different this time. She felt a strength well up inside her chest, a feeling that made everything surge through her, that pushed everything else out of her mind. This was everything to her so she wasn't about to stand down.

And she cried, she let every single emotion pass through her, let it pour into her words and flash through her eyes, refusing to pretend or guard herself or be anything other than who and how she was in this moment. This was the first step.

''I just pissed all over the heart of a man that would take my adultery to the grave, that wants to be friends and laughed with me like we used to laugh even though he knew I had been unfaithful to him. I broke the heart of one of the purest souls I know - why do you think it's you that isn't good enough for me? It's the opposite Santana. Even in our best hour, you make me feel things Sam never could, and if I did that to him...''

Santana shook her head, having stepped close enough to take Quinn's face in her hands, her thumbs stroking across her skin to wipe away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

''I did it too. I gutted Brittney, I don't think she's ever been the same since. I forced her out of my life, I broke her heart, and I practically destroyed myself in the process. We have to live with that, we should live with that. It doesn't mean we can't let ourselves be happy. You brought me back to life, and when I think about the future we could have...baby, my fucking heart feels like it could burst.

The one thing I've learnt through all of this, was that history can be left as history. The past won't go away, but it doesn't have to dictate our future. I love you. I love you with everything I have, and I'm not going to fight that anymore. I'm going to fight for it, for you and a future with you - and being a family with you.

A very decent man told me tonight that maybe the unconventional is the best way to go. And I think he's right.''

Quinn blinked, and sniffed, and frowned a little because how did Santana know all of this anyway - how did she know about the baby, and had she talked to Sam? But it gave way to everything else, to the change in her dark eyes, to her smell, to her tears, to the fact that her hands were shaking against her face and her warmth - and the sheer ferocity of her love.

She had been here to end things, believing that it would be kinder for Santana. There was so much to sort through, she had so much more talking to do with Sam, they had to plan their moves. They had all kinds of decisions to make, and news to break and it was so much. And in the midst of that, they had to prepare for a baby - a baby that would be born never knowing its parents as a couple. A baby that would be received in separation.

Santana deserved to be happy, to have somebody better and without so many complications. That's how she had seen it, anyway - but she wanted her so much. And here she was, fighting, willing to be with her during all of that. telling her she could be there through it all, that they could be a family for real - that she wanted to change her life.

She was being her everything.

''Why have you never told me about what really happened in your past?''

''Because it was too difficult to admit how it makes me feel.''

''Which is what?''

''Ugly. Ashamed. Haunted. There are these demonic little voices in my head, making me believe that I'm never going to be good enough for anything or anybody. And talking about it – talking about what I saw, and what I lived through? I makes me feel vulnerable, and exposed and bare. It's not that I try to keep secrets from anyone its just…it hurts so much.''

Quinn swallowed, understanding and empathy resonating through her. Santana was fractured, maybe she was too - maybe everyone was.

''We'll be different. Better.''

The blonde stated confidently, a decisive nod emphasising her determination. Santana blinekd, and it took a few seconds for the words to really make it through her brain before she widened her eyes with a questioning, hopeful look.

''Do you...do you mean..?''

Quinn bit her bottom lip and nodded, a soft, loving smile moving across her emotional features. Santana actually shrieked, adn she wrapped her arms around Quinn and spun her around in a circle making them both laugh. A release of tension and the break through of actual joy - of excitement and happiness.

''I was seriously worried there Q, I honestly thought you were about to leave me.''

''I don't think I could ever leave you Santana. I love you.''

''I love you too, baby.''

Their kiss was not a coordinated one. It wasn't smooth or perfect, but it was everything. A little bit sloppy, salty from their tears, full of raw emotion that was still coursing through them - it had a neediness about it, but also excitement and hope, promises for the future.

They had come so very close to losing something - to sabotaging something that was special, and unique and profound. it had taken years, it had taken pain and it had taken opening up to hurt and vulnerability - but they had finally gotten there. To a point where things seemed to finally fit into place. It wasn't perfect, and it would be hard, but at least they had stripped everything back and managed to wade through the shit to connect. To understand each other, understand there was more crap to come - but to understand they could, and it was okay to, navigate through it together.


	11. Getting stoned on rooftops

It wasn't out of the realm of impossibility that Santana Lopez found herself stretched out on top of a roof, staring up at the night sky, enjoying the warmth and smoking some pretty damn good pot and listening to alternative music.

There was no need to write home about it, it wasn't subject for shock TV or the weird and wonderful shows like The X Files or Fringe.

What _was_ pretty damn strange, and really did need to be highlighted, was that she was doing it with _Quinn Fabray_. Of all people. This was Quinn's roof, it was her music and it was technically her pot too. Stranger things had _not_ happened.

But this was 'the new Quinn' – revamped and as badass as they came. She was sort of…human, these days. Not so psychotically robotic or on the watch list for budding serial killers. Santana no longer assumed that one day she would spot the blonde on Snapped: Women That Kill. Actually, she was a pretty good mix between her old self and the Skank she had returned to school as. She had found her groove, her comfort zone – and apparently the comfort zone included pot.

''Never pegged you as this kinda girl, Q.''

Santana observed lazily, taking another long drag of the joint before reaching over herself to pass it to Quinn who was lying next to her. Idly, she watched the smoke she blew back out slowly dance and waft into the night air.

''What kinda girl is that?''

''The alternative stoner girl. Few months back you would've dropped dead before doing this.''

She heard a soft, contemplative grunt come from behind her as she watched more smoke, that of Quinn's, drift up into the air. Aside from the music it was pretty quiet around here. Judy Fabray had gotten the house and a huge chunk of assists in the divorce, which meant that Quinn still lived in the biggest house that Lima had to offer in a secluded street. Plus you know, they were on the roof and all. Not right at the top or anything, just on the ledge above Quinn's window.

It had been a long time since Santana had hefted herself out here, it used to be Quinn's safe heaven when she was a freshman, but when she had been consumed by high school, Cheerio's, boyfriends and her Father, she had stopped coming up here and she had stopped being somebody pleasant to hang out with.

''The pot is new, the music isn't. Maybes I'll shows you my stash some time.''

Santana giggled in the back of her throat at Quinn's attempt to sound street, not because she was doing it seriously but because she was being goofy, and that Quinn was a good Quinn to hang with.

''Seriously babe, you are _far_ too white to pull that off. White and rich.''

Quinn scoffed, passing back the joint.

''You have no room to talk about being rich, Lopez. I know your secrets, remember? The school may think you're a super scary projects kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but I know better.''

Santana's parents were wealthy, she had a pretty nice house herself and nothing much to worry about. Quinn knew this, Santana knew this and Brittney knew this. Everybody else had to hazard guesses or listen to conjecture or just try not to think about it in case she knew somehow and cut them with the razor blades hidden in her hair.

''I'd slap you bitch, but it's not worth the effort. This is good stuff, who's your contact?''

She felt floaty, and lifting her arm to hit Quinn just wasn't going to happen – maybe later.

''You won't believe me.''

''C'mon, I'm your bestie – share.''

Quinn chuckled and passed the joint back, it was going pretty quickly, but it was also kicking in very well and she had more anyways.

''Tina hooked me up.''

Santana frowned, then screwed her face up, then widened her eyes and then her face didn't know what to do anymore. Sweet little innocent Tina Cohen-Chang smoked pot? She seemed too quiet to be into anything like this, let alone hooking people up with the stuff.

''Damn. Girl is full of hidden depths.''

Quinn chuckled, and for a few moments there was silence other than the music floating by. Right now, Quinn had it on a playlist of 'Brit-Pop/alt', meaning that it was full of Placebo, The Verve, Pulp, Oasis and a shit ton more stuff that Santana was either surprised at, had no idea what it was or was impressed by. This was not the prim and perfect bible basher that had invaded her best friend's body for the last couple of years.

''I missed you, Quinn.''

Well, didn't that just pop out of nowhere. Fucking joint.

''I missed you too, Santana. And I'm sorry.''

Quinn's hand found Santana's in the small space between their bodies, and she laced their fingers together with no objection from the Latina. Santana gave a squeeze, indicating that she got it. They didn't need to talk about it; they already knew what they had to say. Quinn had been a victim of the pressures of her Father, of her own fear and social pressures and she had just gotten so lost. The deeper she dug the hole she was in the worse it became, and it had taken her quite a bit of time to climb her way out.

Santana had been a victim to her fear too, and of her own self doubt and the expectation of social norms – of which she met none. She had felt like she had something to prove, and if she let anybody in it would hinder her mission. The only way she knew how to protect herself – the only Hispanic cheerleader and maybe one of six others in the entire school, and a lesbian to boot – was to be as fierce as possible.

''Me too, blondie.''

She passed the joint back, closing her eyes for a moment and not letting go of Quinn's hand. She was glad that the taller girl didn't let go either; it felt natural to keep them together.

''Are you in love with Brittney?''

Quinn asked, her words running together just a little like she had said it in a rush just to get it out. Santana opened her eyes, blinking so the stars came back into focus. This time, she turned her head sideways, looking at Quinn to try and get a read on why she was asking.

''Why?''

''I mean, it's just…you're together, right? You sleep together and you're – dating, right?''

Santana swallowed and shook her head gently.

''No, Q. I mean yeah, we've rolled around in the sack and all, but we're not dating. We love each other, but we're not in love. B is my best friend along with you – we just help each other out sometimes.''

''Oh.''

Santana is really interested about the look on Quinn's face. She's never seen it before, but it looks vaguely familiar too. Maybe she's seen it on someone else, but it was new to Quinn – or maybe she hasn't seen the blonde crack any other emotion expect superiority, anger and ice in so long that she's forgotten she's capable of so much more.

Music drifts by, Quinn hums along and Santana absently strokes her thumb along the back of the blonde' s hand. This is so comfortable. Then the music stops, and Quinn squeaks in distaste and outstretches her hand to her iPad.

''Any requests?''

''Lana Del Rey.''

Santana doesn't ask if Quinn has it, she just assumes that this closeted music nerd version of Quinn does, and sure enough after a couple of seconds familiar sounds float into their little bubble and Quinn flops down to her previous position again. Things return to normal, they listen, they hum, and they smoke. They don't let go of each others' hands.

Judy is out on a date with _Trevor_. Quinn says he's an accountant and pretty well to do, and looks a little terrified of her whenever he comes over, but that he seems okay. Supremely weird, but decent enough – he seems to care and respect her Mother, so she's okay with him being a giant math dork that gets nervous around the alternative, teenage Mother of a wayward daughter that listens to strange music and doesn't dress like the frigid practicing Nun anymore.

Suddenly Santana starts to laugh, breaking the tranquillity with rich, genuine and hardy laughter. Even her body moves a little, her legs lifting a little, her shoulders arching up, her free hand settling on her stomach as she laughs and laughs, tears settling in her eyes even.

Quinn looks at her, amused and perplexed, but not completely surprised since they were getting stoned and all – this was the very point. She wants to know what's triggered it for Santana, what thought ran through her mind to start it off. She wants to ask, but all she can do is watch with big captivated, mirthful and stoned eyes.

She shifts up slightly onto the elbow that is next to Santana, the one with their joined hands, and just watches.

''You're so beautiful when you laugh.''

Santana looks over at her with watery eyes and she stalls, her full laughter slowing into fits and starts, until she's calmer again and there's this feeling left over – this thing in the air that has always been hanging between them in some way shape or form, but much, _much_ stronger and intense than it ever has been before. It makes her stomach swirl and her head trip in a way that the pot never could, and as well as this feeling in her stomach, there's a knowing and an understanding in her head too.

''I like the real you, Q.''

''Why, 'cos she gets stoned with you and calls you beautiful?''

Santana shakes her head with a barely there move.

''No, because she's finally honest. Took you long enough, Fab-gay.''

They look at each other for a moment, and it's like something makes total sense. Santana realises she's been waiting for this moment; she's been waiting for Quinn to catch up with her and with herself. The fear dissipates, and she just sits in the moment, in the bubble – she has a chemical induced high, but it doesn't alter anything to do with Quinn. It just makes it much less awkward and fumbling than it may have been if they weren't high right now. Because they were not the easiest two people to be sentimental or sappy.

''You freaked me out, Santana. And then things got out of control, and now I have a daughter and a Puck – and we're going to college.''

The blonde husked seriously, like she had a feeling that she had worked out, worked through and accepted certain things with no time left. Like she had missed one of the biggest opportunities of her life.

Santana cleared her throat; she flicked the end of the joint out into the night and then she shifted onto her elbow in a mirroring of Quinn's position. Only she brought her other arm over to stroke through silky strands of choppy blonde hair. Her heart was slamming against her chest, she was thirsty and her body felt like it was on a cloud. She didn't know if Quinn or the pot was causing most of it, but most of all she just had to use the euphoria to bring the bubble that had been sitting on her chest for three years out.

''You scared the living shit out of me too, Quinn. You still do. I think you always will, because…'cos I think love is supposed to be scary. I can handle the cute as pie Mini-Q, and I can even handle that the Mohawked buffoon will be permanently in your life. What I can't handle is you if you suddenly revert back into the repressed, giant asshole bitch ice queen of all time if things get too real or tough for you. You can't run.''

Quinn glanced down a little, the reminder of the persona she had adopted for so long was a painful one, but a very true one. She had been horrible, there was no denying that. And it was perfectly understandable that Santana would be more worried about that over anything else.

Clearing her throat, she sniffed and looked up, her eyes as watery as Santana's were.

''I already told my Mom. And Puck – and Tina. And Rachel.''

She tried to remember if there was anyone else, but that was apparently her limit so far, and she gave a nod of certainty. Puck was her child's Father, and they would always be part of one another now because of the connection they shared through her. Puck was determined to be a good Dad, and he had already lined himself up a job in Connecticut. He didn't want Quinn to give up Yale, and he didn't want her to struggle to study and raise a baby by herself, so they were going to do it together as friends.

Tina and she had bonded a lot over the last year. They were constantly looked over in glee, so they sort of just hung out sometimes and did their own thing to let off some creative steam. Tina was all kinds of awesome, and very funny. Actually, Quinn at this point considered her a best friend, so it seemed natural that one night the truth just floated its way out of her. Tina had looked at her with a sort of proud and crooked smirk, shrugged and told her it was cool.

Rachel was still a friendship she was getting used to, but it was a good one. Quinn had told her half in effort to strengthen it, and half to really end this suspicion that one day she would steal Finn from her.

And her Mom…well, obviously she had needed to tell her. It was important, and she wanted to be honest and she and Judy had come a long way. Her Mom was actually very calm and very supportive, but this was the woman that had divorced her Father and turned their relationship around so that they could be a family, and helped her to raise her baby. Judy didn't drink anymore, she was open and took an interest in her life, and things were pretty great between them now. She had even apologised for letting things get as far as they had.

''I'm not running, Santana. If I'm not too late, if I haven't completely managed to fuck things up, then I'm here and I'm ready.''

Santana smirked, there was a party happening inside her chest, and she was proud of Quinn for managing to do what was right for her. She thought that maybe becoming a parent had been a rather large driving force behind that. It had changed something in her, and she had followed the thread until it had taken her to a better place. It was a pretty big ask for a teenager, but then again Quinn was pretty special.

''I've been waiting for your slow ass to catch up, mi amor. You're a little dysfunctional. But I love you.''

''I love you too.''

Quinn thought that maybe being a little dysfunctional was actually okay. She cupped the side of Santana's face, and ran her thumb across her bottom lip. As soon as she had set eyes on the Latina she had known, on some level, what she made her feel. And back then for her to have those feelings for a girl was the most terrifying thing on earth. She had buckled.

She was stronger now. Had worked a lot of things out, had her own child, had the love of a parent – she had fit things into the right places, and Santana still scared her but in the best way. Her biggest fear up until now was what Santana felt for Brittney, if she could deal with her daughter and if she had moved on from what she knew they had both felt for a long time.

It didn't matter that their first kiss was under the influence of pot, because it was theirs and it was part of this slightly absurd night of getting stoned and resolving things between them. This was enough. They didn't need hours and hours of deep and meaningful conversation, and they didn't need anymore to be said to know that they were both ready. Santana didn't need to say anymore to make Quinn believe she could be with her and love her and accept that her life included a daughter, and Quinn didn't need to convince Santana that she had finally come to grips with who she was.

Which only meant that the trust was there, and the foundations were there. Quinn hadn't specifically meant this to happen when she had invited Santana over tonight, her intention had been to meant and rebuild bridges. Puck had the baby for the weekend; the house was hers so it had been a good time.

She hadn't necessarily expected the words, or the acknowledgement. Hadn't expected Santana to slide her tongue into her mouth to play with hers, giving her the first real taste of the Latina.

She didn't expect that they would have sex at all, let alone on the rooftop, stoned, with Lana Del Rey drifting in the background – floating into the night air with every moan, pant and heated whisper.

Who knew smoking pot on rooftops could be so life changing?


	12. Sociopathic Love

A/N - So, I was working through this whole Quinntana week I didn't know about, whoops! I had some ideas for some of the themes but nothing except the one about the killer one came out, may be because I was super busy. Debated whether to put it up or not, but I am, so here it is.

GGGGGGG

Sociopaths aren't supposed to fall in love. They aren't supposed to feel. And maybe she doesn't.

Maybe she is suffering from some chemical imbalance in her head. Perhaps she is mistaking obsession, possession even, for love. Because she does possess her, in every way she possesses her.

Perhaps this is just the cataclysmic result of two serial killers identifying together so very strongly that they turn it into a warped, twisted version of love. A dark, sick imitation that only serves the purposes of their sexual appetites, outwardly appearances and cruel desires to kill. Together they are stronger, they can work as one unit and reflect an entirely different persona. They were a beautiful couple together, sweet and disarming and friendly. Their lies were particularly stronger for being together.

Except, that was not entirely true – and only one of them was a sociopath.

One killer was born and one killer was made.

Now they were here, together, coinciding – functioning in what was indeed a very real relationship. They took part in hobbies together, they ate together, they slept together, they exchanged about their days, they supported one another and protected one another and they had sex together, and for both of them having a monogamous relationship of any kind was certainly a new experience. They bought food together; they cleaned the house together and listened to music together.

They just happened to kill together.

Despite their insatiable lust for death, the twisted pull to take away the life of another, the way they planned in ice-cold precision, they went to the opposite extreme with one another. It was all consuming and raw heat, as insatiable for each other as they were for their murders.

There was an unanticipated trust and loyalty between them, perhaps coming from the deep understanding of their circumstances.

''Santana..?''

Quinn's voice was rough, low and even shaky. It held a whiskey quality to it normally, but right now it was edged and lilted with arousal, with lust and a primal heat. There was a desperate quality to it, as she fought with the waves of euphoria surging through her body.

Of course she had had sex before, many, many times. It had just never had the same affect on her. With Santana it was completely different – with the women before, they had simply been there to serve her needs. When she had wanted sexual release, she knew how to get it – she was not a woman afraid to take and demand what she wanted. She had never actually cared whether her partner received what they wanted; of course it didn't, because they were nothing to her. She had no capacity to give the slightest damn. The only reason she ever did give back was to make sure she kept up a certain appearance and keep her options open to her.

It was one thing to sleep with a mysterious, alluring womaniser who had the reputation for satisfying to the extreme. It was quite another to avoid the same woman who took what she wanted, and cruelly dismissed her partner. That would only mean that word would spread, and Quinn would find that she would have to find her conquests elsewhere – and that was time and effort that could be much better spent.

''Yeah?''

Quinn, with hooded lids, looked directly into Santana Lopez's eyes. They were face-to-face; situated in the very middle of the bed they shared together. Quinn was knelt and Santana was straddled over her, and they were knuckle deep inside each other. It wasn't a slow pace, but it wasn't a fast one either – it was torturous and tantalising. Candlelight flickered against the sheen of their bodies, bathing them in a calming yet ghostly glow.

''Do you love me?''

Santana looked right back at her, and Quinn already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway.

''Yes.''

It was obvious that Santana loved her. It had happened almost instantly. The first time their eyes had met, there had been intrigued and attraction whirling there. In the midst of hopelessness, emptiness and volatility of course. Santana had been near death – tending bar in some backwater hick town in New Orleans, very close to being discovered for the killer that she was when three bodies had surfaced from watery graves. It had been unfortunate and unlucky, but what was more so was that she didn't seem to have cared.

This, Quinn had picked up on instantly.

She has learnt how to get Santana off. There are many different ways, depending on the circumstances, position and seemingly the mood of which the sex is intended. Quinn is never out and out rough, just maybe enough to make it dark and dangerous to be exciting rather than frightening. It depends what mood Santana is in, of course – these Quinn has also evaluated.

Right now, she hooks her fingers just right and sweeps her thumb at the precise angle against her clit and draws her up into a deep, open kiss that makes her murmur into it. So she cums with an arch, a quiver and murmurs that get swallowed by Quinn's own mouth. And maybe its time, or perhaps its Santana's irregular fingering or _maybe_ it's the fact that the Latina is cumming around her fingers – but Quinn is right behind her and that sweeping white hot liquid goes rushing through her and her blood booms through her ears.

She forces Santana down with a push, making her land back on the mattress and she follows in short order. Quinn pins the slightly younger woman's hands up above her head and she hovers over her, panting lightly and staring straight into hazy, sated eyes.

''Tell me what love feels like.''

She husked, both wanting and needing to understand what the people around her talked about so very often. Quinn had said the words without fault, with every ounce of feeling that they would expect, but of course it was all false. She imitated, she acted – she delivered exactly what she needed to. Inside, in her heart and in her head – she felt nothing. It wasn't that she was trying to feel something, it didn't bother her in the slightest that she didn't, but she liked to understand these kinds of things, and she wanted to understand why Santana was so significant. Quinn couldn't recognise these feelings by herself, Santana had to be her translator.

''It feels…it feels like your chest is full of this hot, bright energy that makes you feel _so_ good and makes you feel full. Like you're gunna burst. I mean, that's how I feel about you.''

''You feel this everyday?''

The raven-haired woman nodded lightly.

''Every single day – I think about you, and I can feel you in me. I feel happy with you, and safe.''

It was somewhat of an oxymoron for one killer to tell another that they made them feel safe. There was of course, every chance that things could go wrong and they could get hurt – or dead, or caught. But then again, Quinn could understand that compared to the life Santana had lived before they had met, this one would feel significantly safer.

She studied the subject beneath her for long, intense moments.

''If anyone ever hurts you again, I'd rip their heart out. Is that love?''

It was true – if anyone ever did anything to Santana, if they touched her or upset her or did _anything_ to remotely hurt her, Quinn would strap them down and very slowly open up their chest and rip their heart out of it. This would be, of course, after she had taken her time to torture them first, and make them wish they had never been born in the first place. And she would enjoy every second of it.

''For you, yeah, it is.''

Quinn contemplated.

''Quinn, can I…why me? Why did you chose me?''

Santana's voice was wrought, like she was fearful to even ask. Her dark brown eyes looked up at her with a longing, a submission – a need. Quinn was aware that Santana would do anything for her. Whatever she wanted, the Latina would submit to, she was entirely in control of this relationship.

She was a delicate balance of strong and weak, with one of her major weaknesses needing to depend on somebody. Quinn offered stability, she offered security and safety. Santana had been abused and misused for so long, and now she was protected. She had a teacher, and an anchor, someone to direct her and to love her even in the limited way that Quinn could offer.

Quinn once again contemplated. She had to start first, with her compulsions.

It isn't that hard.

If you're careful, if you're silent and keep your ego in check and do your research, it isn't that hard.

She can't remember never not wanting to do this. A fascination with death has always lived inside of her, an irony that is not lost on her. It runs deeper though, than a fascination with death.

Her parents didn't do anything to her. She was, is, the typical girl next door. There was no trauma, no abuse and no neglect. She had the picture perfect life. Her Mother told her bedtime stories, and made pancakes and took care of her when she was sick. Her Father taught her good math, how to defend herself and how to take care of her car. Her sisters played with her, and she had her own room and everything she could ever want or need.

Her parents told her that they loved her every day. They also told her she could be anything she ever wanted to be, and they would always be proud of her.

It just so happened that what she wanted to be, was a killer.

No one ever suspected her. Not as a child, so methodical and analytic, observing human nature and interaction. Every emotion was catalogued, every cue assessed for instant recognition and imitation. She memorised cues, body language, metaphors and speech.

She was a profiler from the time she was an infant.

It was key to investigate; she watched what she was never supposed to see. She killed small animals and opened them up, learnt how blood felt on her hands and how to get rid of it and the bodies. She set fires, purposefully said and did things to illicit responses for her to record the results. No one suspected that the sweet, polite little blonde girl was meticulously cataloguing all of these things, meeting two out of three tick boxes of the triangle of sociopathy. Turns out she would never be a bed wetter.

Lucy Quinn Fabray had absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was a sociopath. A very dangerous, insidious one at that. She had done extensive research into the subject, even. A genuine member of MENSA since the age of 6 with a sky high IQ she was often the most intelligent person in the room, whether an adult stood before her or not. She learnt how to negotiate this feeling, knowing from an early age that if she displayed any narcissism or toxic arrogance then it would be a tell in her giant poker game of life and death.

The sunshine blonde hair, outwardly social and sweet personality, charming smile and pretty eyes were all extremely beneficial to her act – and the voice, the voice did things to people. Quinn was also aware that she was highly attractive, and her work outs and efforts were equally to keep that as it was to be the fittest she could be – they were both essential.

She was a snake in the grass.

The fact that she was an FBI Agent, the youngest of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, did not hurt either. They had bent over backward to bring a 4-time PhD genius into their fold, because of course she was highly accomplished. A girl had to have her hobbies besides murder.

Quinn gets a kick out of hunting serial offenders, it takes the edge off of her urges, basically making sure she never overdosed and made a mistake. She did not feel one ounce of hypocrisy or guilt that she went after 'her own kind'. They were not like her.

It's not like she went around killing just anyone. She had put a lot of time, thought and effort into her victim pool. Quinn didn't bother the innocent – people like her family. They held no challenge. Criminals though, she was their grim reaper. The more violent the better, in her eyes – gang member were a particular favourite.

They deserved what came to them, her own victims and those that she caught via her job. It appalled her that there were simply no standards to serial murders anymore. The people she investigated were amateurs, or arrogant, or out of control – or so goddamn stereotypical it made her want to cave their heads in. It was especially satisfactory when she got to use her weapon, thrilled that she harmed or killed one of them on the job. There was a special irony to that.

Her job served a multiple of motives, access to violent and serial offenders, the ability to hunt without killing so she remained in control, and the vantage point to detect whether she had been detected.

It was a perfectly organised life. No surprises, no accidents and no wrong turns.

Until her.

Until Santana Lopez.

Quinn had travelled all the way to the backwaters for her. Something had spoken to her when she had been assigned the case to look over and give advice on. Something in the details had caught her attention, whispering to her – compelling her to go there.

The law enforcement were moronic hicks, beyond confused at the three bodies that had been discovered. They had absolutely no clue, not a single one. Quinn had figured it out within the day after a little legwork on the victims' histories. The cops thought they had been killed by one of their own kind – drug using, alcoholic criminals. They just wanted advice on who.

It wasn't a stretch to plant evidence. No one questioned her when she shot the 'murderer' right through the heart in the shack that Santana tended bar in. Case closed.

''_What…what the hell? You just fucking shot an unarmed man in my bar!''_

_Quinn lowered her gun, calmly re-holstered it and swung her gaze up to the Latina that blinked in shock from the few feet away she stood from the dead lump of a man that stretched across the floor. It was after closing but Quinn had left breadcrumbs for her intended victim to be here._

''_Your work is sloppy.''_

''_Excuse me?''_

''_Your work is sloppy. Those men should never have been found. You're out of control, your technique needs to improve before you get killed, or you get caught.''_

_Santana stood, with a dishcloth slung over her shoulder and her fingers holding the glasses she had been collecting to clean up after she had ushered the last of the drinkers out of here. It was late, and she was tired, and she was getting edgy – she needed her fix soon._

_Not that she really gave a damn about the pig bleeding out on her floor, but it was _her_ floor and she did not have the patience for some blonde stranger talking to her like she knew her. _

_Then she caught the glimpse of her cuffs and her badge. Her FBI badge. Fuck._

''_Lady, I don't know what you're fucking talking about – clean up your shit and get the hell out of my bar.''_

_Quinn did call it in, but then she slid out one of the chairs and sat down, pinning Santana with a knowing look._

''_I came here for you, Miss Lopez. I came here because you need me, you need discipline. I can provide it. You have potential; you just need the right teacher.''_

Of course, Santana had denied it some more, she had insisted that Quinn was crazy, thinking this was just some inventive way to make her confess or something like that. Until the cavalry had arrived and the blonde had calmly explained that she had located Hank West into the bar, thus coming between him and his next intended victim. She had openly declared that he had killed the low lives they had found, and Santana was left off of the hook.

It wasn't until Quinn had sat there and detailed her reason for killing them as well as her personal history.

It was the exact opposite of hers.

''_You were a shining star at high school; you had a perfect GPA because you are smarter than this town combined. You were athletic, and popular and talented. All covers for the nightmare you were living at home. Every one of your siblings left you here, abandoned you to be neglected by your drug and alcohol dependant Mother. Abandoned you to your violent, abusive Father. And when he couldn't get what he needed from her, he took from you. It was hard, and brutal and painful and it stripped every single thing away from you, degrading you until you were nothing._

_That's when you noticed, how men look at you. It's how you learnt to profile them, to spot the rapists and the wife beaters and the child molesters – walking versions of the man you would love to kill the most, but you can't because he terrifies you. _

_You're a textbook killer, Santana, but you can be so much more.''_

Quinn taught her, to be smarter and to be careful, and how to control herself.

''I was born like this, Santana. I'm a natural born killer; you were made by your circumstances. I was always going to kill, no matter what. If you had my parents you would never have even thought about it. Yet, there you were, struggling to cope with the weight of your history and you were so good at it, vicious and cruel yet elegant and poetic.

If you were going to be that way, to be like me, I thought you should have the best teacher. I wanted to make you a more efficient killer.''

''You wanted to make me better?''

''I suppose I did.''

''That's love, Quinn. That's _your_ love.''

Santana was a more efficient killer. She was a more efficient person, she functioned better. Quinn focused her, she had taught her so much and even when she was severe, and reprimanded her on something she deemed sloppy, she loved her. She needed her. And her love may have been abnormal to the rest of the world, it may have been twisted and sick, but it was Quinn's and she was giving to _her_.

It was as close as a sociopath was going to get, and it was enough – because not everyone could provide what Quinn did, and could follow up on her threat to kill anyone that ever hurt her again.


	13. Exhilaration Of Flying

''I feel like Icarus with you.''

The statement was faint, barely a whispered out husk, detailing just how much the kisses had shaken her – to her very core. She could feel the brunette's breath as they hovered so close still, reluctant to pull apart more than they had to.

That was until Santana drew back her head just a little more, brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at Quinn. They were lying face to face; stretched out on the blonde's bed, panting lightly from the making out they had been doing.

''You feel like your pet dog?''

Santana squeaked lightly, utterly bewildered. She blinked, wondering just how she should process that particular statement. She had gotten 'you're so hot' and assorted compliments before, but that one definitely caught her off guard. But then, Quinn was an altogether different kettle of fish.

The blonde swallowed with a sigh, and opened her eyes that had drifted closed, and Santana wondered if Quinn knew just how beautiful her eyes were – particularly when they were all stormy and intense like they were right now. The way she could look at her, it sent lightening bolts straight to her core, made her abdomen tighten and her breath catch – it was pure, unadulterated sex appeal. But it was also truly, truly beautiful too.

''Do you know anything about Greek mythology?''

Quinn asked in that whiskey smooth tone of hers. Santana shook her head, still confused but willing to follow the blonde's thread.

''You're the geek here, remember?''

The brunette joke, her tone soft and laced with a good-natured teasing. Quinn narrowed her eyes, because she knew that Santana was actually very studious, and gave her a gentle shove with her body seeing as they were so close. Then, she swallowed again and reached out her hand to stroke through some silky hair, fixing the strands that she herself had tussled out of place.

''Daedalus, the master craftsman that built the labyrinth to imprison the Minotaur, he had a son Icarus. See, he had been punished by the King for helping Ariadne help Theseus which is a longer story – but to escape, he crafted wings made out of wax and feathers for his son and himself. He specifically told Icarus _not_ to fly too close to the waters surface, and not to fly too close to the sun.''

''Okay…so what happened?''

''Icarus was too overcome, he was so blinded by the joy of flying that he forgot his Father's words and became too curious and in his eagerness he flew too close to the sun. The wax melted, and his wings fell apart – he fell to the sea and drowned.''

Santana's forehead furrowed even deeper as she pulled back even more and propped herself up, now somewhat offended as well as alarmed on top of her confusion. One minute everything was pretty damn perfect and they were making out like there was no tomorrow, and now Quinn was talking about some mythical dude falling to his death and equating that with _her_.

''Wait so…I make you feel like you're drowning?''

''No, Santana – you make me feel like I'm flying too close to the sun.''

Santana paused to consider this for a couple of seconds before shaking her head.

''That's not any kind of better, Quinn.''

The Latina sighed and rolled off of the bed and got to her feet, irrationally irritated and annoyingly hurt. She wasn't supposed to _feel_ these types of things; she was Santana Lopez for crying out loud. And she definitely wasn't supposed to feel these types of things for goddamn nerds like Quinn Fabray.

She was the head Cheerio, the most popular girl in school – the HBIC. She was badass and she could do whatever she wanted. She was respected, feared and adored. And she could have anyone she wanted.

Quinn was…the complete opposite. She was on the opposite side of the social ladder, pretty much right at the bottom. Everyone thought she was a weirdo – just a total dork, with no redeeming factors to make her interesting. Literally, the only reason why she wasn't completely invisible, was because everyone thought she was some kind of freak because her parents owned the towns one and only funeral home.

She and her brother got utter and total shit for it, constantly called names and being avoided or body checked or slushied. The fact that they were both unbelievable nerds was just icing on the cake for the popular kids in her circle – they made a meal out of the Fabray twins.

''I didn't mean it to be offensive.''

''Yeah? Well it certainly wasn't complimentary.''

Santana snapped, glowering petulantly and she shoved her feet into her tennis shoes and ducked down to grab her discarded Cheerio's jacket. Her instinct was to bolt, because the pressure in her chest was making her panic.

Quinn shuffled off of the bed too, and came around it to stand in front of the brunette. It was obvious that she was nervous, apologetic and a little guilty – but there was actually a resolve to her expression, a confidence there and a need to be understood.

''You make me lose my sense of judgement, Santana. You're not the sun, or the wings or the sea – you're the exhilaration of flying. Don't you understand that? You make me feel that, and I forget that you're Santana Lopez and that I'm just…me. I forget how easily this can come crashing down on my head – that suddenly I'll be too close to the sun, and I'll fall because I was so lost in you that I wasn't paying enough attention.''

Santana opened her mouth to begin objecting some more to Quinn's words, but the blonde shook her head and put her hand on her upper arm.

''And you can't get angry with me for being scared that it will happen. For having just some doubt, however insignificant, that this is all just…a dream, or a trap – or _something_ that it isn't. Because I walk into school everyday and my life is made hell, by _your_ friends, by _your_ squad – for quite some time, by _you_. It's not fair to expect me to forget about that on demand. You could so easily break me, Santana, by walking out of my life after deciding that the school freak isn't worth trading your popularity for after all. For thinking that maybe, just maybe this is just misguided gratitude for helping you when you needed it.''

It was obvious, painfully so, that the words that Quinn were refusing to say out loud was that she loved Santana. That she did absolutely love and adore her, but those brought on feelings of fear too – and those fears were justified.

Santana had no way to object what the blonde was saying. She had helped to make her life miserable at school, either directly or by not doing anything about the bullying that Quinn went through. She hadn't lifted a finger, even when she had joined the glee club. She hadn't made one single effort to befriend Quinn outside of it, only adhered to the rules that inside the club they did their best to not let the outside dramas play out inside. It didn't always work but she tried.

Quinn had a very legitimate complaint here, she had reason to be terrified and Santana couldn't belittle her by saying otherwise.

''You expect me to do that, don't you?''

The blonde shrugged helplessly.

''Part of me does. The other, bigger part of me, _really_ hopes you don't. Not just for me, but for you too.''

Santana's eyes had narrowed thoughtfully, her heart was still pounding in her chest and her mind was whirling with voices and noise. She was so confused. Quinn was confusing, and complicated and difficult. If she was honest, she couldn't say that she had never felt anything for Quinn before, she had just resisted them because of who she was. That, and she had never made a true effort to know her.

She had noticed her, but she hadn't known her. It was only when Quinn had been there, suddenly and thankfully appearing out of nowhere, that Santana had actually started to pay more attention.

''I uhm…I needs to go.''

''Santana…''

''No it's…I'm not mad, Q. I just…in a way, I feel something similar with you. You challenge everything I've ever thought I was, Quinn. And I don't want to hurt you, so I need to figure some things out for myself, okay?''

Quinn retracted her hand, wrapping her arms around herself protectively as she valiantly tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to do more than glimmer in her eyes. It was a struggle, however, and she took a few shaky breaths as she gazed at Santana and nodded.

''Okay.''

It wasn't okay, because to Quinn this felt like Santana was pulling completely away and she had just blown her chance to experience something perfect. She had been in love with this girl since freshman year, and here she had been right next to her and she had ruined it by opening her mouth.

Quinn let Santana lean in and place a soft kiss to her lips, but she didn't say anything as the slightly smaller girl walked out of her bedroom and left her in silence. She just stood there, listening until she heard the front door close and then a couple of moments later heard the now familiar sound of Santana's car start, peel off and then fade away.

''Goodbye, Santana.''

Four days passed by.

Even in glee club they didn't directly speak. Not one single word. There were plenty of lingering looks though, especially on Quinn's part. It made her feel pathetic. The football players had been all over Santana like usual, and it irritated her more than usual. Instead of feeling hurt that no one knew about her involvement with Santana, it hurt even more to know that she had blown it and lost her chance.

On Thursday though, she rushed out of class like everyone else when someone screamed down the hall that Santana and Kitty, her one of two best friends, were having a fight in the hallway. And sure enough, onlookers encircled them as they really laid into each other. This wasn't a cat fight, it was a _fight_ fight, until Santana got the upper hand and slammed Kitty into some lockers so hard that she slid down onto the floor – but then she was grabbed by Finn Hudson, who struggled to hold her back.

''Stay down bitch! That's how I do, don't fucking mess with Santana Lopez!''

The Latina was a crazy wild mess right now, and though Kitty did stay down she glared weakly at her former friend, as teachers arrived to try and control the situation. Finn yanked Santana aside and managed to keep a relative amount of control over her, as people went to attend to Kitty.

Quinn's heart sank as Santana caught her eyes for just a brief moment, before she was marched down the hall by Principal Figgins.

An hour later, Quinn had been walking down the hallway during her free period, and noticed Kitty with her parents as they came out of the nurse's office. The blonde glared at her but she didn't say anything. Curious, Quinn ventured nearer to the office and inched inside. Sure enough, she heard a faint grumble that was distinctively Santana.

Slipping into the cubicle, she caught sight of the usually meticulously groomed girl. Santana's hair was let down messily, her uniform was all crinkled and she had some cuts and bruises across her, including her face, to which she was currently holding an ice pack to.

''What the hell happened out there, Santana?''

The Latina looked up, still disgruntled and trying to hide a large streak of vulnerability without any success.

''She pissed me off.''

Quinn lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed by the response. They looked at one another for a moment in a silent standoff, and then Santana sighed dejectedly.

''I…I told her about what happened, with Steve King? She said it was my fault.''

''_She what_?''

Santana looked up at her pathetically, and let Quinn take the ice pack from her and take over pressing it to her face gently.

''Basically, she said that it wasn't his fault that he got frustrated with me because he wasn't getting what he wanted. Especially when I play games, and have an 'unnatural interest in girls'. She said that girls are supposed to be subservient to men, and that rape doesn't really exist, it's just something that happens to teach us a lesson for playing hard to get.''

So, Quinn had pretty much hated Kitty and the ground she walked on in the first place. Why she had been close to Santana to begin with she had no idea, they were the exact opposites. Kitty was very tightly wound, and she came from a family that were associated with some rather right wing, white supremacists so it hadn't seemed like a natural fit. It would stand to reason that they would hate each other, given that Santana was Hispanic, outspoken, not so tightly wound and in the very least bi sexual. But Quinn had figured that it was simply the time they spent together in the Cheerio's that had just created some weird bond or something.

Santana's other best friend was Brittney Pierce, who was an absolute sweetheart. The only odd thing about their friendship was that as an outsider you would think that Santana was too sour for someone as light and bouncy as Brittney, but they seemed to anchor each other and provide a balance that settled the both of them.

Hearing this though, even though it didn't completely surprise her, Quinn actually felt like smacking the bitch herself.

''_Are you serious_? Does she want to take away our vote and reproductive rights while she's at it?''

It was a half hiss half gasp. It pained her to know there were still young, educated girls that were so stupid and blind like this.

''San, you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't even go to that stupid parking spot with Steve.''

''Ya well, that didn't seem to matter to Kitty. _I_ didn't seem to matter.''

Quinn sighed softly, she hated seeing this girl so beaten down and dejected.

''You do, _so_ much. No one has any right to treat you that way – not him and not her. You're a really wonderful girl, Santana. You're smart, you're beautiful and you're talented. No one has the right to take what you're not willing to give, and no one has the right to say those things to you. You'll show them, I know you will – you'll show them just how brightly you can shine.''

Santana looked up at Quinn again, her chest was all full of that pressure like it had been the other day, but she didn't get chance to say anything because the nurse came back and interrupted the moment. But it was enough to make her think.

Figgins wouldn't let her leave school before the end unless one of her parents came, but her Papi was stuck in the hospital and her Mom had driven to Columbus with her Tia for the day. After they made sure she was okay, and told her they would be talking about her behaviour tonight, Santana had been left to stretch out on the bed in the nurses station and think.

Quinn's words echoed in her ears, not about the bigger issues, but for some reason about the fact that she had driven to a parking spot that overlooked the town a little bit one day after school to think. She had been sat on the hood of her car when Steve King had pulled in with his truck – and that's where things had started to get a little out of hand.

Santana still didn't know whether he had been randomly driving in the neglected area, or specifically searching her out, but he had turned up and he had tried it on with her. When she had resisted he had gotten a little rough, and when she had hit him he had hit her back. It was when he had gotten her pinned against his truck that she had really thought something awful was going to happen – and that feeling had not gotten any better when he had been shoving his jeans around his ankles and telling her she was a slut and he could do anything he wanted.

Only, Quinn had suddenly been there. With her massive, _huge_ dog Icarus who had intimidated the bulky footballer. Basically the blonde had saved her life, she had spared her from a very ugly fate and since that day, Santana had been talking to her like she should have before.

In the last few weeks, spending time with Quinn had been…a revelation. She had truly loved getting to know her properly, despite keeping everything a secret from her friends. Well, except for Brittney.

The thing was, as Santana tried to assimilate what had happened and what had almost happened, and negotiated through her growing feelings for Quinn – she had never stopped to think about what she actually when up to the parking spot to think about in the first place.

Her feelings. For girls. And her attraction – to Quinn.

Fuck she was so stupid sometimes.

Quinn had no idea what was going to happen tonight. Since the day she talked to Santana in the nurse's station, she hadn't seen or heard from her. The entire week had been empty because of it, but there was nothing she could do, Santana was on suspension and she wasn't reaching out to her. Quinn knew she had to give her the space that she needed – that she had asked for, even though she didn't necessarily want to.

That was until the Friday, she had opened up her locker to find a red envelope in there. Looking around, Quinn opened it curiously and found a plain card in there, with Santana's neat writing asking her to be her date to a party that Sugar was throwing at the Sugar Shack the next day. Quinn knew about it, Sugar had invited her already, but she hadn't been sure whether she would go or not. This though, this was Santana asking her to go _as her date_.

''You know, once you get through the hard shell – she's totally worth it.''

Quinn jumped and looked up at Brittney who had just appeared by her locker. She smiled knowingly, giving Quinn the impression that the cheerleader had been the one to put it in her locker for Santana. She had always been nice to her, even though everyone else called her a freak and weirdo names – Brittney had always been sweet, and when Quinn had driven a numb Santana to her house that day, she had been very tender and very grateful, and Quinn had seen up close and personal the depth of their connection.

Brittney winked, and then continued on her way to wherever it was she was going. It took Quinn until she was getting ready for bed that night to finally send a text to Santana, telling her that she would go with her to the party tomorrow.

The blonde had never been so nervous going to a party before. She didn't get to go to the type of parties that Santana constantly had access to, but she had been to the parties of her friends, and glee and a couple of her other teams' parties. She had been to the Sugar Shack a couple of times, and very much enjoyed herself.

But tonight she knew that there would be a heavy presence of popular kids, all of Santana's friends and the jocks and cheerleaders. People that bullied her, people that thought she was a freak, and people that Santana hadn't mentioned her to.

But the Latina was there, waiting, looking so beautiful and she had smiled when she had come in through the door and gestured her over.

''Hi.''

''Hi.''

With an unnatural shyness, Santana lifted a single red rose out to the blonde.

''This is for you.''

Quinn paused, not completely knowing what to do, before she took the flower delicately in her fingers, blushing lightly.

''Thank you.''

Santana smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she composed herself.

''Thank you for coming, I wasn't sure if you would. And…after the way I've ignored you this week, I wouldn't have blamed you for not showing up. You look…so beautiful, Quinn. Will you dance with me?''

See, Santana had this charm about her, it was very specific and natural, and it made you forget about everything because you felt so precious in her focus. Quinn nodded silently, unable to think about anything else in the moment, other than that Santana's eyes were so stunning, and she was so beautiful too, and she really missed being in her arms.

The Latina slipped her hand into Quinn's, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently, and lead her to the dance floor. When they got there, the Latina turned and lifted her arms to loop around the taller girl, much to Quinn's surprise. Instinctively, Quinn's hands went to loosely hold her sides, and she stared at Santana questioningly.

''I've come to some conclusions this week. And they're pretty simple.''

''Okay.''

''You said I make you feel like Icarus – that I could so easily break you. Well, the same things are true for me, Q. I've been struggling with who I am for so long, Quinn. It was happening, but apparently I'm not as smart as I think I am, because it was slow.

That day I went up to park? I went up there because it's quiet, and I went to think about how I can't fight myself anymore, it's exhausting. It scares me, but…I know I can't run from my sexuality anymore. And I knew then, like I do now, that I am so very attracted to you.

I want to be with you Quinn. What happened didn't _make_ me interested in you; it gave me the excuse to get to know you.

I love you. I do, you make me feel like I'm flying too, and you make me feel things I've never felt before. So, if I'm not too late, if you can give me the chance, I would really like to do this with you. For real – no secrets, no hiding…none of that. You deserve everything, Quinn – you deserve me to be the best I can be, so I will always try to do that from now on.''

To say that Quinn was stunned, flabbergasted, completely bowled over? That would be a fantastically major understatement. She felt like her lungs had stopped working and her entire chest burnt, because she simply couldn't breathe. The look in Santana's eyes, the truth and sincerity in her voice, it stole the air right from inside her.

There was commotion and sound all around them, but since Santana had started talking it felt like they were the only ones here, moving around to silence. They didn't exist, not right in this moment – a moment that she had dreamt of countless of times.

''You…you love me?''

She asked shakily, voice barely scraping enough sound together to be heard. Somehow the Latina did, and she nodded, not breaking the eye contact that they had established and held throughout her little speech. This was it. It was go time, and she had to step up and be a real person. Not this character that she had created to serve her purposes.

This week had given her time to strip that away, to start being truly honest. It had given her the room she needed, so in a way she was grateful. Grateful to Steve for being an asshole would-be-rapist, grateful to Kitty for being an ignorant, moronic bitch, and grateful that Quinn had been on a long distance run, and had helped her, and had befriended her and showed her who she was. Of course, she would only be keeping one of those three in her life, one she had finally reported to the police and the other could go to hell.

They didn't matter. They didn't have power over her life, she did. And it had taken her a massive amount of time to understand that. Popularity was nothing. Not if you didn't have true friends, so it was worth nothing.

This? Love, and understanding and friendship and support? It was really all that mattered. Because the girl that got shit everyday at school, the girl that had been bullied by her and all her precious popular friends? She hadn't even hesitated in helping her. Kitty wouldn't even entertain the idea that Steve had been in the wrong. It would be so fucked up if she held on to popularity over someone like Quinn.

''I love you.''

Not one single waver of doubt entered her voice.

''You mean that?''

Santana knew that Quinn was not only referring to her statement of love, but also the statement that she wanted to be with her without any secrecy involved.

Smiling just lightly, Santana lifted up and in front of anybody that cared to look, placed her lips against Quinn's. For a moment it was just a pressing together, but Santana slowly but surely coaxed Quinn into a deeper kiss. It was slow, but languid and powerful and possibly better than any other kiss they had ever shared, because they weren't hiding in Quinn's bedroom. They were free.

''I can't tell you what's going to happen now, I can't make any promises – I can only promise that if we fall, Quinn we'll fall together. Okay? I'd rather be with you and fall than never fly at all. You're worth it, and you are better than any of us here. I'm going to make up for all the shit I put you through, and I'm going to try and prove to you everyday why someone like _you_, would be with someone like _me_.

And I started that by doing a few things this week. You wanna hear?''

Far too overwhelmed and overcome to speak, Quinn nodded, trying valiantly to stop her eyes from watering but it wasn't working, and her eyes glistened into darker similarly glistening eyes.

''I reported Steve King. I told my parents everything that happened, and I told them about what Kitty said to me about it. And then I told them about me – that…that I'm gay. And that there was a special girl, and that I was in love with her – and her name is Quinn Fabray.

And the reason I wanted to ask you here tonight, besides to tell you all of this, was to ask you if you would officially be my girlfriend. What do you say? You wanna fly too close to the sun with me?''

Quinn laughed, a choked up, teary laugh because somehow she knew that this Greek mythology analogy was going to accompany them for however long they were together. It would always be associated with Santana now, and that was pretty much okay by her. If there was anyone she was going to strap on wax and feather wings on for and fly it was this girl right here, who in the space of just under two weeks had really pulled through for her. And very much for herself, too.

Santana had heard her words, and they had settled inside of her, perhaps just feeding the seeds that were already growing there.

''Yes! Yes, I will be honoured to fly too close to the sun with you, Santana Lopez. I love you too, I always have.''

Santana smiled, and she lifted up to initiate another slow, purposeful kiss. She didn't even care where they were, her stomach was doing back flips and this was literally the happiest she had felt in so long. She felt like a weight had been lifted away from her and she could breathe again.

When their kiss came to an organic end, she pulled her arms tighter around Quinn and pressed into her, closing her eyes and breathing deeply – slow dancing with the girl that had saved her now in so many ways that she couldn't even begin to count. She knew that there would be fallout, but she was also prepared for it, she was strong and she had Quinn, and her parents were behind her – she had the support where it counted. Brittney would be there for her, the glee club would be there for her, and she was even pretty sure that Coach Sylvester wouldn't care she was a lesbian. Everyone else she could handle, it was worth it.

Santana knew evidently what Quinn had known for a long time, that exhilaration only came with the risk of falling – and that also, life always came with that risk. Quinn had let a girl she had only previously known as a bully into her life, knowing that she could fall. She did that because of love, and because it was the only ever way that you got to experience, and learn, and get anywhere near where you wanted to be.

So, she was taking her cue from the bravest person she knew aside from her parents. She was strapping on her wax feather wings, and she was flying. The difference between her and Icarus was that she had some safety nets, people to help her out of the water, people to hold onto – and she wasn't flying alone. She had Quinn's hand to hold onto.


End file.
